


Sun and Moon

by AuntieEm73



Category: TOLKIEN J. R. R. - Works & Related Fandoms, The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Caring Thranduil, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Falling In Love, Loss of Virginity, My First Work in This Fandom, Oral Sex, Swimming, no idea which other tags to use I'm new at this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-18
Updated: 2021-01-18
Packaged: 2021-03-16 14:27:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 8
Words: 26,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28832679
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieEm73/pseuds/AuntieEm73
Summary: Miya carries around a secret, she is not even aware of herself. Her secret could be the decider between life and death. Can Thranduil help her? Will she be able to give into him and save herself?
Relationships: Thranduil (Tolkien)/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 18
Kudos: 40





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Thranduil fic. I have written several since and hope to post more in the very near future. I wrote this piece back in 2018. I hope people will like it. Please be kind with your feedback. Constructive feedback will be much appreciated, as I am not a native speaker of the English language, but I aim to better myself constantly. So please have a heart. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

Leaves and twigs brushed against her face, while her young legs carried her through the undergrowth of the forest as fast as she could. She didn’t dare look around, though the rustling of branches behind her indicated they were not far behind her. Ahead in the distance she saw a clearing where the sun was coming through the density of the forest’s trees. She needed to stay clear of it. She quickly swerved right in order to avoid the clearing. In doing so, her foot got caught on a root that was pushed up from the soil. With a thud she landed on the mossy surface. For a moment the air escaped her lungs, before she got to her feet once again. Only this time she heard a loud crack behind her and she felt something tighten around her waist as she was pulled backwards abruptly. She frantically looked at her waist to find the ends of a whip coiled around her. Her little fingers desperately tried to untie the leathery material, but she couldn’t. Tears started to fall from her eyes in desperation until a pair of strong hands lifted her up.

“Got you!” she heard behind her.

She started kicking, and screaming. She managed to land her heel into her abductor’s groin hard. He loosened his grip and she landed on her feet again. This time the whip was quicker than her feet allowed her to take her away. She heard the whip crack several times and a piercing pain seared through her body. Her back felt like it was being ripped open. She managed crawled for a small distance, she lost consciousness quickly after.

*** 

As she woke up, she found herself in a dark space, with only several candles burning around her. She felt the pain inflicted on her back from before. She found it hard to move without hurting, but she decided to anyway. As she got up, she looked for an exit to the space she was in. In the dark she found something that looked like a door of sorts, but she was unable to open it, no matter how much she tried.

She heard footsteps approaching her confinement. She slowly backed away, ready to pounce whoever was to enter. The door opened and a large sweaty man entered, a whip secured on his hip.

“Let’s see how much I can fetch for you at this market. I should get quite some coin for you,” he grinned, baring his brown teeth.

She didn’t respond, but was on her guard. Before long, the sweaty man grabbed her by the arm and pulled her towards the opening into the bright sun outside. She could hear the hustle and bustle of people around her, but paid no attention to their faces at first. Then she noticed marketeers selling their products and in the centre of it all, there was a pedestal of sorts, on which a man with bound hands and feet was standing, shivering. She heard people shouting numbers, no doubt the amount of gold pieces they were willing to pay for him. Panic entered her heart. She was to be sold as a slave.

As the sale was completed and the man was guided away, the young girl was hoisted onto the pedestal for all to see. Her wavy, waist-long, dark brown hair danced around her shoulders, as did the one bright, white strand of hair that adorned her otherwise brown locks.

“A fine specimen, ladies and gentlemen,” the sweaty man roared, which earned him the attention of the people present.

“She will serve you well, I’m sure. She is strong and of Elvish descent. She will serve you for a long time,” he said jokingly, making people join his laughter.  
“Can we start the bid at 10 gold pieces?” the sweaty man continued.

No one responded.

“C’mon, fine people of Lake Town, 10 gold pieces for a young elf, to serve you until you die, it is a bargain,” the man tried to convince potential buyers, reminding them of the elf’s immortality.

In the crowd, a young couple observed the situation. Both looked at one another, before the woman spoke.

“Girion, I know we are not all that wealthy, but I cannot stand by and let this young girl fall into the claws of those of ill will,” the woman stated, hurt in her eyes.

Girion knew very well that when his wife had her mind set on something, he would not be able to change her mind so easily. Regardless of that, he too felt a strong desire to ensure the young elvish girl would not fall into the wrong hands. She looked so helpless. He nodded.

“You’re right, Mailia,” he said as he stepped forward. 

“You’re not fooling anyone, Maynard, she is but a child,” Girion shouted.

“She is worth no more than 3 gold coins, and you know that damn well,” he tried to convince the slaver.

At the other end of the market place, another on-looker observed the situation and nodded with a smile, as he contently smoked his long pipe. From underneath his blue pointed hat, he craned his neck to assess the sale before him, his grey hair and long beard flowing gently in the wind.

“I will give you 5 gold coins,” another man shouted from the crowd.

The grey-haired man recognised the local brothel owner and his heart jumped in fear.

In the meantime, the girl began to struggle against Maynard’s grip and as she did, the tunic she was wearing ripped slightly around her shoulders, revealing the angry streaks where her back had previously met with his leather whip. It also revealed a birth mark on her shoulder in the shape of a crescent moon.

“I will give you 7 gold pieces,” Girion shouted.

“15,” the brothel owner continued.

“She is a teen, barely on route of having reached adulthood, are you serious?” Girion shouted at the brothel owner.

Girion looked at Mailia with concern on his face, who just nodded. She was desperate to keep this young elvish girl from harm. They had to buy her no matter what.

“30,” Girion finally said, hoping that he did not have to go higher, though he too felt the need to save the young girl.

There was brief silence, before the brothel owner waved his hands in defeat.

“You can have her, _scrawny thing_ ,” he huffed.

The young girl looked into the crowd. Her eyes briefly locked with the grey-haired man in the pointy hat, then her eyes settled on Girion and Mailia.  
Girion smiled and his wife Mailia gave him a loving kiss on his cheek.

The grey-haired man in the pointy hat sighed with relief and backed away from the crowd. She was in good hands now.

Mailia squeezed her husband’s hands, as she was evidently over the moon. 

“Your grandfather would have been so proud of you. You truly honour his name,” she concluded, referring to Girion’s grandfather, Lord Girion, Lord of Dale.

*** 

As years passed, the young elf grew into adulthood. She was no longer the little girl Girion and Mailia saved that day at the market place. She grew into a strong and beautiful woman, with a good head on her shoulders and a strong mind of her own. Girion taught her how to swim and found that she was a natural in the water. The ease at which she managed to make her way through the water, strongly resembled that of a fish. Never had Girion seen anything like it. As a resident of Lake Town, it had always made sense to him to teach her, but he was baffled at her talent. He was not at all surprised that often, he would find her in the water, swimming large distances just for the pleasure of it. Water seemed to soothe her.

Whenever she wasn’t swimming, she seemed to have a habit of getting into trouble. She was somewhat of the rebellious kind, preferring to hang out with the dwarfs of Erebor more so than with the people of Lake Town, never quite fitting in with either. From time to time, Mailia told her off because of her sometimes excessive drinking. She had expressed her concerns on letting herself in with the gambling games and greed the dwarfs were infamous for.

“Why?” Mailia asked.

“It’s easy coin,” she sniggered at the dwarfs’ greed, that quickly seemed to turn their common sense into stupidity. _Dragon sickness_ my ass, she thought to herself. She cared for the dwarfs though. She felt she could be herself with them. They did not care for décor or etiquette. That suited her nicely.

“Besides we can do with a bit of extra, live a bit more comfortably, don’t you think?” she asked, as Mailia smiled down on her adoptive head-strong daughter.

“I’m just concerned that you pick up too many character traits from those rugged dwarfs, Miyaka,” she said.

“It’s not lady-like, nor elvish-like,” she piped.

The young elf just snorted. 

“What do I care what is elvish-like or not. It’s not that I feel a connection with them,” she continued, much aware of the fact that her real parents had at one point abandoned her.

“A connection with whom?” a voice came from behind her.

As she turned, she looked at the face of Girion.

“Father!” she exclaimed happily.

“Miya,” Girion said smiling as she flew around his neck.

As she lowered her arms again, she adjusted her short tunic and some of the skin of her waist briefly exposed to her father’s view. He frowned.  
“Please tell me you, didn’t?” he asked.

“Father, when have you ever known me not to do what I want. It has never harmed anyone,” she winked at him.

Girion knew this to be true. He loved his stubborn daughter, and he was much aware that she mostly did what she liked. She would never deliberately go against her adoptive parents, if it meant a disadvantage of any kind to them, but she would defy them if she had her mind set on something she truly wanted. She did as she pleased. She loved her parents dearly, but more than once, she reminded them that she would not let anyone command her, ever! She would not be a slave to anyone, not anymore. She hadn’t forgotten how her parents had come by her. After all she still had the scars to prove it.

“Did what?” Mailia asked, looking quizzically at Girion. 

“Nothing dear,” he said quickly as he felt perhaps Miya had not shared the dwarfish ink decoration with her mother as of yet. Girion briefly lifted her tunic one more time, to reveal the ink pattern of beautiful leaves on her side just below her ribs, where its vines coiled at the ends of them. It was beautifully done, he had to admit.

“If that’s not elvish, I don’t know what is,” she winked at her father.

“One of the dwarfs at Erebor told me they look like the leaves of Lórien, where my kin live.”

“How far down does it go?” Girion asked.

“Just down the side of my thigh,” Miya shrugged.

Girion just shook his head. When his daughter had her mind set on something. He brushed her hair away from her face, lifting the bright white strand last, in order to kiss her on the cheek. 

***

More years passed. Miya stayed the same, but those around her grew old and perished due to time. She lost Girion and Mailia, her beloved parents, to old age and her heart broke because of it. Their biological son Bain loved Miya like a sister, but he too fell victim to mortality along with his wife, after both contracted lung’s disease, leaving their only son Bard in her care.

While her heart had been broken again, she cared for Bard like he was her son. But as he grew older, she regarded him more as a brother. She had accepted the fact that those around her would simply come to pass and her own immortality would simply have to deal with it. Because of it, she became more withdrawn. Closed her heart to others, in order for it not to be broken again. She already knew that in time she would lose Bard and the mere thought of it filled her heart with grief. Therefore, she decided pushing people away would be easier to handle any loss she might experience. She found herself to be unconsciously angry with people and it suited her. In time she would close her heart to others completely. It would help her survive.

*** 

Disaster struck, as a thunder storm raged across the land. It first reached Mirkwood, then made its way in the direction of The Lonely Mountain, which meant it had to hit Lake Town at one point as well. Many people lost their lives and many houses were destroyed. They had not seen such destruction since Smaug unleashed his hell on them. They were once again in a state that required them to rebuild their beloved Lake Town.

This time however, the people of Lake Town could count on their allies. Lord Dain, Ironfoot, the King under the Mountain and Lord of Erebor, sent word that the dwarfs were descending down from The Lonely Mountain to help them rebuild. Even the young Elvish prince, Legolas, brought word from the Woodland Realm that his father King Thranduil and his people would help where they could. King Thranduil insisted on sending his best healers to help the wounded, while others would help rebuild what was lost. 

While all busied with rebuilding and tending to the wounded, Miya felt blessed that men, dwarfs and elves lived in such beautiful harmony. This had not always been the case in the past. 

Miya worked hard to rebuild the wooden platforms and walkways that made up Lake Town. She put her swimming and diving skills to good use, fortifying the supports below the water’s surface.

As she climbed out of the water and rested herself on a pile of wood, she found Lord Dain shouting orders at his kin. It made her smile. She always felt quite comfortable around dwarfs. As she looked around, her eyes fell on a very tall elf, with beautiful waist-long silvery blond, straight hair, which fell perfectly around his shoulders and down his back. Though she had never actually met him, she recognised the king of the Woodland elves. Thranduil was an impressive specimen. He moved graciously among the wounded, insisting on doing his share of healing. Miya had heard stories of elf-magic from the dwarfs. Apparently Thranduil, as a high-born elf, was the most talented healer among them. 

Several days passed and the people of Lake Town organised a celebratory feast for their guests to show their gratitude. As a prominent resident of Lake Town, Bard would be the kings’ host at the Town Hall. He greeted them with pleasure as they entered the one building the storm had managed to spare. Lord Dain gave Bard a sturdy pat on the shoulders.

“Lead me to the food, laddie!” he smiled while passing Bard, as he pointed in the direction of the table with refreshments.

Behind Dain, in walked Legolas, with his father Thranduil, who oozed nothing but grace and elegance. His hair looked as perfect as it had done earlier that day, as though nothing could disturb it. From a distance, Miya found she was unable to look away from his light blue eyes, which she perceived as though they could look into one’s very soul. Bard greeted them both with joy.

Legolas nodded and offered Bard a quick _mae g’ovannen_ [Well met], before he went to mingle with the other guests.

“It is good to see you again, old friend!” Bard said to Thranduil.

“The pleasure is all mine, _mellon nîn!_ ” [my friend] Thranduil replied with a soft smile around his lips. 

Behind Thranduil, another person stepped into the room. Miya frowned, as she recognised the grey-haired man with the pointy blue hat from all those years ago at the market place.

“Where is the party?” the grey-haired man asked light-heartedly.

Bard turned into all smiles, as he greeted the man.

“Gandalf, what a pleasure to see you honour us with your presence once again!”

Thranduil raised his heavy set eyebrows.

“Mithrandir, I was not aware you were joining the celebrations,” Thranduil genuinely wondered. 

“It is however very good to see you, it has been a long time,” he said.

“ _Mellon nîn, manen le?_ ” [my friend, how are you?] the grey-haired man said as he and Thranduil embraced warmly to fortify their greeting.

“I would not expect a wizard to journey so far without reason, as last I heard you were in Gondor,” Thranduil spoke.

Miya frowned. Wizard?

“Indeed I do not, old friend. I am here because of a life-altering prophecy. But first we eat I should think. Is that elderberry wine I see there?” the wizard asked as he walked away from Bard and Thranduil.

Bard just smiled as Miya decided to approach him and the elven king. Miya had decided to hide her elvish heritage, while the elves were in town as their guests, as she felt it was no one’s business how she had spent decades living away from the elves, not having any desire to consort with them now. She had nonchalantly wrapped a silk shawl around her head, effectively hiding her ears. Her beautiful long, dark brown hair loosely draped over top, some strands made their way down along her cheeks from under the shawl. The white strand didn’t as it clearly stood out from the rest of her beautiful dark brown, wavy locks.

“More wine, my Lord?” she asked Thranduil, who turned to look at the person holding up the decanter.

“Please” Thranduil replied, holding up his goblet, his eyes remaining fixed on the woman close to him.

Thranduil observed her as she poured the wine. He was instantly drawn to the white strand of hair on her otherwise dark brown head. His gaze landed on her face. He noticed her perfectly shaped eyebrows. Voluminous, not unlike his own, but slightly thinner, more feminine-like. She had enigmatic grey eyes, which seemed to glisten like the stars in the low light. Her nose was a straight as an arrow and her lips were full of body. She had a soft jawline, but the way in which determination seemed to shape her face, softness was not the first word that came to mind in describing her beauty. 

“Thranduil, may I introduce you to this lovely lady? _Muinthel nîn_ , [my sister] Miya,” Bard spoke.

Thranduil frowned.

“I did not know you had a sister,” he spoke.

Bard laughed loudly.

“You never asked,” he continued mockingly not going into it further.

Thranduil landed his eyes on Miya again, not yet wanting to look away.

As the evening progressed, Thranduil kept looking around the room. Every time his gaze found Miya, as if there were no others in the room to converse with. Bard had noticed the same and looked for the wizard across the room. Their eyes met and both men nodded.  
Thranduil’s stares had not gone unnoticed by Miya. It made her terribly uneasy. She walked to Bard angrily. 

“Why does he keep staring at me?” she hissed fiercely.

Bard sighed.

“Who knows what stirs in the depths of Thranduil’s mind,” he simply said.

“What?” she asked him with a gasp.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” she asked firmly, anxious that her elvish roots had perhaps been disclosed.  
Bard shrugged.

“Not sure, I don’t think so,” he said somewhat absent-mindedly, not finding it worth to give it the attention she was giving it, although his smirk told her otherwise.

“Aargh,” Miya fired, more angry than before. What business could the Elven king have to keep staring at her as such. Did she have something on her nose, was her cleavage showing too much? She did not like it.

“I have no desire to be here anymore, I’m calling it a night. I will see you again tomorrow morning, but don’t expect me to be as friendly as I was today,” she fired, ready for all elves in Lake Town to make their way home to Mirkwood again soon.

Thranduil had noticed the heated word exchange between brother and sister and watched Miya leave the room. He wondered what they talked about.

***


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

“ _Orcs!_ ” someone shouted loudly. Another was sounding a horn in alarm.

Bard entered Miya’s room. 

“We are under attack. I need you to stay here. You are not trained in the art of battle like some of us,” he spoke, his breathing heavy.

Miya nodded, but didn’t like what she was hearing. She knew however, that she would not stand a chance fighting against any orcs. She was simply not skilled to do so.

She killed the light in the house and remained in the dark, observing people, dwarfs and elves battling against the sudden surge of orcs that seemed to have it in for Lake Town.

“Find the weapon, it must be here… our master has it on good authority that the weapon was last seen here,” she was able to overhear some orcs passing the house. 

She decided to stay out of sight. 

She heard cries and screams and felt concern wash over her, worried she might lose her beloved brother sooner than expected.

Sounds became more muffled and the quiet settled around her. She heard footsteps below. As Miya peeked through the window, she saw Thranduil making his way past the buildings in full armour, his sword at the ready. Without warning, an orc snuck up behind him and before she could help it, she screamed.

“Behind you!” she yelled to down below.

As Thranduil turned, the orc pierced his flank with his sword, just under his body armour.

With one swift motion, Thranduil swung his arm and as he did, his wrist turned to make his sword separate the orc’s head from his shoulders in the most elegant way possible. In doing so, Thranduil however, lost his balance and fell into the water. Miya craned her neck to ensure Thranduil would come up again for air. She gasped loudly as she found he didn’t.

Miya did not waste any time and within moments she found herself running down the wooden staircase of her elevated home. She looked at the water and realised the heavy armour was what was dragging Thranduil down. Within a split moment, she was in the water, diving deep only to find Thranduil sinking to the bottom of the lake. 

Thranduil had seemed to have accepted his fate and was no longer struggling, as he had not anticipated anyone seeing him fall into the water. He was at peace with his imminent death it appeared. As he looked around him in the dark water, he saw a figure approach him, moving through the water with such elegance and tremendous speed, that he wasn’t sure if this was a man or a fish. As the figure drew closer, he saw long hair flowing in the water’s movements. The curvy outline of the body swimming towards him, was neither a man nor a fish, it was a woman.

He could feel a nimble pair of fingers unbuckle the armour around his back. He felt it slide from his torso, after which he felt being dragged upwards to the water’s surface. With a fluent motion, he was being pulled onto the wooden walkways. A searing pain ran through his side. He grimaced while the woman continue to pull him safely away from the water. As he blinked the water from his eyes, he noticed the woman’s face hoovering above his. He recognized Bard’s sister from their earlier encounter. 

“Miya,” he said in recognition, a tone of gratefulness in his voice. 

His light blue eyes pierced her very depths. Where she had spent years closing herself off to connect with anyone, she felt something right there and then, though she was unsure what it was.

The shawl she had been wearing around her head, had come off in the water. As her hair draped around her face, Thranduil noticed her ears protruding from underneath her flattened hair. Shock and surprise engulfed him.

“You are an elf!” he exclaimed.

Miya just looked at Thranduil before finding his flank still bleeding. Panic struck her, as she didn’t know what to do. The one thing that came to mind was putting her hands on the wound to stop the blood from exiting. As she did, warmth emitted from her hands and a white light appeared between her hands and Thranduil’s injury. It startled her, unsure what it was she was witnessing. A roar escaped from Thranduil’s throat, as he threw his head back in agony. Miya’s reaction was to withdraw her hands quickly. She was frightened.

She heard footsteps approach. It was Legolas.

“ _Adar_ , [father] are you alright?” he asked concern on his face.

He quickly glanced at Miya. He too had instantly noted her ears revealing her elvish heritage, but felt his father required more attention.

“Mithrandir,” Legolas shouted. 

“He is over here,” he called out again, in an attempt to get the attention from others.

The wizard came running in their direction, as did Bard. Bard instantly noticed the uncomfortable look on Miya’s face. Her and Thranduil’s wet clothes quickly gave away that she had in fact saved Thranduil from a watery grave. How the elven king landed in the water, he did not know, but the beheaded orc body next to them led him to conclude there had been an altercation of sorts. The wizard kneeled beside Thranduil and noticed the torn fabric from where the orc’s blade had inflicted damage. As he pushed the fabric away, he found the wound to be almost healed. The wizard raised his eyebrows in surprise, before meeting with Miya’s shocked gaze.

“Can someone please help me stand?” Thranduil shouted irritably, as Legolas assisted his father to erect himself.

“I will be fine,” he continued, not wanting more people fussing over him, as others approached.

While others joined to see what had happened to Thranduil, Miya quietly slipped away. She was confused, about all of it.

*** 

“ _Mellyn nîn_ , [my friends] I have summoned you here today as the dawn of cataclysmic events is upon us,” the wizard started the gathering.

The room was dimly lit. Bard, Thranduil, Legolas and Dain sat around a large table, focused on the words coming from the wizard’s mouth. 

For a moment they were all silent. Until Bard spoke.

“Gandalf, you spoke of a prophecy before, what prophecy would that be?” he asked kindly.

“Indeed,” the wizard continued.

“Perhaps not all of you are aware, but the ancient texts describe the coming of an ancient weapon. A weapon so strong that it could be the decider of the outcome of the battle of battles,” the wizard explained.

Thranduil nodded.

“I am familiar with these texts, Mithrandir. 

They are indeed very old. In all my millennia I have not yet seen the signs to think the prophecy is to fulfil itself within due course,” he concluded.

“My dearest Thranduil, you have not been reading the signs well, I am afraid, as it appears the signs are here with us today, under our very noses,” the wizard piped.

Thranduil frowned, as did Bard.

“Please explain, Gandalf?” Bard requested, now curious on what information the wizard would share with them.

“The ancients texts describe the weapon to be adorned with a sign of a crescent moon and a bright white beam originating from it. It is deemed strong enough to vanquish all enemies and redeem the world of most evil and cruelty,” the wizard cited.

All around the table fell silent.

“And this weapon is here among us now?” Bard wondered.

“Indeed, my friend,” the wizard smiled sucking at the end of his pipe.

“Closer to you than you may think,” he continued.

Miya sneaked around the upper floor silently, barefoot, padding her way to the staircase that adjoined the room where the gathering was taking place. She quietly sat down on one of the steps on the staircase to listen in on the conversation below her.

Bard gasped.

“You don’t mean…?” he did not finish his sentence.

“I see you understand my friend,” the wizard almost whispered.

Thranduil and Legolas exchanged glances.

“This weapon you speak of, Mithrandir, it is not an it but rather a _she_ or am I mistaken?” the elven king queried.

Bard gazed down at the table, as he started to understand and recognise the signs, that the wizard had described to them. 

“You mean to say that Miya is the weapon?” he finally asked.

The wizard simply nodded. 

Sighs could be heard from around the table.

Miya’s stomach twisted, as she held her hand over her mouth in order not to make a single sound.

“Mithrandir, correct me if I am wrong, but do the ancients texts not say that the weapon is too strong to wield and that the weapon itself will not outlive the outcome of its use?” Thranduil asked.

“That, my dearest Thranduil, is indeed part of the mystifying words I am struggling with,” the wizard admitted.

“I have done my share of research. It was for that reason I was in Gondor until recently. In Osgiliath and Minas Tirith there are many ancient scrolls that could shed light on the matter. From what I have understood, the weapon can be its own enemy. If wielded improperly, it would be its own downfall,” the wizard explained.

“I have yet to discover how the weapon is triggered to be used, or how the downfall of the weapon can be avoided,” the wizard continued his explanation of the prophecy.

“Many texts reveal the weapon will only work well, without a disastrous outcome, if combined with the strongest force known to man in Middle Earth,” he explained.

Legolas stirred. “What would that be, Mithrandir?” he asked.

“Why true love, of course,” the wizard said sucking his pipe gently.

“And what does that mean for the weapon’s survival?” asked Dain.

“That is the question, my dearest Lord of the Iron Hills. Do not be fooled by such a commonplace emotion as true love. The truest of loves, are the most complicated and deepest of all emotions, as well as the most powerful. Not only are they matters of the heart, but matters of the mind as well. I suspect the key to understanding the weapon lies exactly there,” the wizard ended.

Miya couldn’t believe what she was hearing. If she wasn’t scared before, she was certainly petrified after hearing the conversation below. She saw no other way out of this mess, but to leave everyone behind. It broke her heart to think she had to leave Bard, but there was no other way.

Bard was confused.

“But Miya has never shown any signs of elvish magic,” he professed.

“That you know of,” the wizard claimed.

“What do you mean?” Bard asked confused.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

“She healed me,” the king said suddenly.

“She only briefly turned her healing powers on me, where the orc had managed to plunge his sword into my flesh,” Thranduil explained.

“I was able tell by the expression on her face, the look in her eyes, that this was not something that she was familiar with. It was clearly her first time,” he said softly with his deep velvet voice.

“Pray tell, Thranduil, how long was she able to turn her healing powers on you” the wizard asked kindly.

“Mere moments,” Thranduil replied.

“Yet she managed to almost heal you fully in but mere moments. You understand that such powers are not unlike your own. I believe we can expect great magic from her,” the wizard said.

Bard looked as though he had been knocked off his feet.

“But she has never shown any signs of elvish magic. She would have told me had it bothered her,” Bard was convinced.

The wizard turned to Bard. “My dearest bowman, please understand that Miya is but a young elf, barely a century old. It is not strange for her powers only to manifest themselves now.”

Bard sighed.

“Others may have seen the same signs,” he said calmly.

“Indeed,” the wizard agreed.

“I suspect it is for that reason our orcish nemeses raided Lake Town last night. They have spies everywhere.”

Bard shook his head, not ready to come to terms with the notion that Miya’s life could end if the prophecy unveiled.

Thranduil got to his feet.

“What is it you expect us to do, Mithrandir. What is our role in the prophecy,” he asked quizzically.

The wizard sighed.

“Your role in the prophecy is unclear as of yet, however I suspect Miya should be prepared in every way possible. She has much to learn. She has to learn to become an elf. At the moment she is more of men and dwarfs,” the wizard said, glancing at Dain, who looked away embarrassingly.

“I kindly ask you to take her under your wing, Thranduil, and teach her to defend herself, to fight, to understand the elvish ways, understand the connections elves can forge through the mind. I believe it is key in understanding her powers, what she is capable of and most importantly to keep her safe, until the prophecy unfolds itself. Only then have I hope for her survival.”

Thranduil bowed ever so slightly in the direction of the wizard. 

“Consider it done, Mithrandir. Legolas and I will see to this ourselves. Legolas is after all the best marksman with a bow,” he praised his son.

“And you, father, no one masters the sword better,” said Legolas in turn to praise his parent.

“When we finish our work here at Lake Town, we will travel back and bring Miya with us,” Thranduil concluded.

Miya had been quietly listening on the staircase. Tears flowing down her face. She had not wanted any of this and she felt nauseous. She had to go!

***

“Gandalf, she is gone,” Bard shouted as he came running, nearly out of breath.

The wizard merely raised his eyebrows in confusion.

“Gone?” 

“Are you certain?” the wizard asked.

“Some of her personal belongings have gone and she has not been seen in the past two days,” Bard continued.

“Could it be she overheard us talking the other night?” he wondered.

The wizard nodded in acknowledgement that this was indeed a strong possibility.

Thranduil walked towards the pair, overhearing part of the conversation.

“Can you think of a place where she may have retreated to?” he asked Bard.

Bard thought hard.

“Somewhere where there is water. She has always felt right at home where there is water,” he said convinced.

“Lemanas pond in the heart of Mirkwood,” Thranduil sighed, as he strongly believed Miya would find the woods much suited to remain out of sight. 

“It is a good hiding place, as the forest is thick around it,” he acknowledged.

“I am concerned for her well-being though. As of late, that part of Mirkwood has been infested with spiders,” he continued.

“We have to make haste,” as he turned to walk away with long strides to rustle up his guards and his son.

*** 

Thranduil had instructed his son to ride ahead and ready everything at the palace, as he suspected to return with their new guest soon. Thranduil had decided to take it upon himself to ensure Miya would be found in good health and rode forth, several guards at his side.

After an almost day’s ride through the thick forest of Mirkwood, they were getting close to Lemanas pond. The king’s guards, as well as Thranduil himself, were very much on alert, as they noticed the spiderwebs grow in numbers. For the moment, their presence had gone unnoticed by the eight-legged monsters.  
As they approached the pond, Thranduil quickly noticed Miya sitting on one of the rocks where the water and the forest soil met. She was wearing black leggings, with knee-high boots. A grey tunic completed her ensemble. Her brown curly locks danced in the breeze, the white strand joining the rest of her hair in unison. He instructed his guards to scatter and ensure no spiders would come near them, as he concluded the situation could present itself to be a delicate one.  
As Thranduil light-footedly approached the beautiful figure sitting calmly on the pond’s rock, Miya looked up, as she sensed someone nearing. This pleased Thranduil, as it meant Miya’s elvish powers were present more so than she would care to admit.

Before Thranduil could speak, Miya beat him to it.

“Have you come to save me?” she asked the tall elf.

“Do you think you need saving?” Thranduil replied with a question.

“Apparently you all think I need saving, being a powerful weapon and all,” she continued rolling her eyes.

Thranduil understood that indeed, as suspected, Miya had overheard their conversation about the prophecy several days earlier. That could complicate matters.

“We merely want to teach you our ways, prepare you, in any way we can, in case it helps you understand and better deal with what lies ahead,” Thranduil said calmly with a deep voice.

Thranduil’s mesmerizing voice almost made her melt, but instead she shot at him.

“I may look like an elf, but I can assure you I’m not an elf,” she huffed

“You may not feel like one, but I can assure you, you are a full-blooded elf,” Thranduil spoke.

“Well, I have no need for you or your elvish ways. Life has served me fine without them for years,” she spat.

Thranduil was getting impatient and his light blue eyes bore into her very soul.

“We cannot stay here much longer. We are in danger and you are too blind to see it,” he now said angrily.

“You will come with me,” he concluded.

“What? Are you serious?” Miya asked incredulously.

“From what universe are you to think you can give me orders to do exactly that which I do not want to do?” she continued.

Thranduil was becoming agitated and he was not able to hide it well.

“I am your king and you will do as I command,” he raged.

Miya now fumed. Upon hearing the word command, she went livid.

“You are _not_ my king. I have no king. I _need_ no king,” she fired at him.

Thranduil suddenly grabbed her wrist, which sent every sense of her being racing throughout her whole body. His touch was rough, yet mesmerising. However, she had no intention of just giving in.

“You will do as you are told,” Thranduil now roared.

Miya reacted in the only way possible, knowing very well she could not tear herself away from his iron grip.

With her free hand, she lashed out to his face, hard.

Thranduil was taken aback at first, only briefly losing the stability of the ground beneath his feet, before using both hands to lift Miya up as though she were a mere feather. He swung her over his shoulder and proceeded to return to his horse. Miya kicked and screamed, demanding him to let go, but Thranduil did not give in. She heard him curse softly in Sindarin.

“I should throw the likes of you in my dungeons,” he noted.

“Then do it. I could not care less,” she shouted at him.

Thranduil just smiled coldly. As he reached the horse, he set her back down on the ground, not yet loosening the firm grip around her wrist. As he elegantly mounted his horse, he settled himself on the saddle. Within the blink of an eye, he hoisted Miya up to straddle the horse, sitting comfortably in front of him. She felt his strong thighs against the back of her own, as he gripped his left hand around her waist, while with his right he grabbed the reigns. He urged the horse to indulge in full galop, as they both rode off in the direction of the Woodland’s palace. The king’s guards soon followed in their wake.

As they rode, Miya felt Thranduil’s grip tighten around her waist, ensuring she would not fall from the horse. His thighs massaged hers as they rode on, his chest firmly pressed against her back. The sensation made her dizzy. Finally Miya just grabbed the horse’s manes to steady herself, though it was not really necessary.  
As they finally reached the palace, darkness had already fallen. Miya continued to make chaos, shouting, kicking, screaming. She was turning heads as Thranduil had again regained a firm grip on her wrist. He led her through hallways, along stairs, until he opened a heavy-set wooden door and guided her into the room behind it, finally letting go of her wrist.

“I should think you are more comfortable here than in my dungeons,” he said calmly, eyes cold.

Miya fumed, when she suddenly walked in Thranduil’s direction and pounded her fists on his chest hard. He grabbed both her wrists this time, until she seemed to calm down. He then let her go and turned towards the door, the ends of his beautiful hair lifting up as he moved.

“Freshen up if you will and meet me for dinner in the great hall. The guard outside your door will guide you,” Thranduil said in the most calm voice. The next moment he was gone.

Miya screamed off the top of her lungs. Never had she been forced to do anything against her will, and it was infuriating her.

Thranduil could hear her from outside the chamber he had left her in. He huffed and smiled before proceeding to walk away. 

“I will have my hands full with you, _nar edhel nîn_ ,” [my fiery elf] he remarked under his breath.

***


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Miya was livid, having been forced into the situation she was in. She felt imprisoned, when she did not deserve to be. It took her a long time to calm down, but ultimately she managed to take in the beautiful interior of her confinements. The room was equipped with a large, comfortable bed. There was a bathing area with what resembled a small pond and a comfortable sitting area with a soft sofa sitting across from a fireplace. Several shelves by the sofa contained books. She ran her fingers along the spines of them, noticing some of them were in Sindarin, while others were in the common tongue of Middle-Earth. She noted a number of garments that had been brought to the room for her to wear. Some of the garments were beautiful gowns and dresses.

She snorted.

“As if,” she whispered to herself.

She was determined not to give in to her captor, who was clearly holding her there against her will.

Two days and nights passed.

Miya was lounging on the sofa, drowned in one of the books from the shelves, when the door to her chambers opened.

She looked up, but quickly returned to the pages of her book when she saw who the person was entering.

Thranduil’s long legs elegantly brought him to her, holding a tray in his hands.

“I figured you must be hungry, as I’ve not seen you leave your chambers for two days now,” he said calmly.

“I’m not hungry,” Miya spat.

Thranduil smiled.

“I know for a fact that not to be true,” he replied as he eyed her.

Miya frowned as she did not understand.

Thranduil turned to put the tray down on the nearest side table.

“You have much to learn of the Elvish ways, _nar edhel nîn_ [my fiery elf],” he continued.

“Eat,” he insisted.

“You will feel better,” he promised.

“When you are done, make your way to the barracks. The guards will tell you where to go. Wear something comfortable,” he spoke.

“Your training starts today, whether you want to or not,” he finally said.

His voice was cold.

Miya knew that very well that if she didn’t comply, he would drag her from her chambers. She sighed.

Thranduil felt him reaching out to her mildly successful. 

He turned and with long strides he made his way to the door again.

“Before mid-morning!” he raised his voice before exiting.

*** 

Miya concluded that the elves training her would not be a tremendously bad thing. After all, she had no combat skills whatsoever. She was used to holding her ground in a pub brawl, but nothing more. It could prove useful to her.

As the guard outside her chambers guided her to the palace barracks, she found Legolas waiting for her. He greeted her in the friendliest of manners.

“Good morning, _mae tollen_!” [Welcome]

“I don’t speak Sindarin,” she spat.

Legolas continued to smile.

“I know, but you will learn, I’m sure,” not being dissuaded from the day’s goal.

He picked up a bow and a quiver of arrows, as he patiently provided instructions on how to begin. As time passed, Miya started to feel comfortable around Legolas, unaware that she was being observed. Thranduil looked down onto the clearing by the barracks from one of the palace’s balconies, only to find that Miya was in fact quite talented in wielding a bow and arrows.

On occasion she would find herself in frustration. While she clearly possessed talent for archery, the odd failure gnawed at her self-esteem. She would have a tantrum, smashing the bow to the ground and discarding it away from her roughly, while Legolas, patient as he was, would grab another bow for her to start anew.

Thranduil shook his head, closing his eyes. 

“ _Estelio en le, neth loth_ ,”[trust in you, young blossom] he muttered.

***

As more time passed, Thranduil took up teaching her the art of wielding a sword. He found her to be equally talented in handling a piece of steel as she was in handling a bow. 

As he managed to teach her the basics of sword fighting, she found herself sparring against the elven king during her lessons.

Her footwork was impeccable. What she lacked in strength, she made up for in agility. She was quick, though not quite as quick as her teacher.

Several times Thranduil managed to get the better of her, as she found his sword either on her neck, or ready to be plunged into her torso or other part of her body.

She cursed under her breath that this insufferable elf could make her feel so useless.

“You often strike with your heart, Miya,” Thranduil spoke.

“Learn to harness your emotions and you will find your actions will serve you well,” he continued.

Miya was furious. She had spent so many years harnessing her emotions. She was quite capable of hiding her emotions, not letting anyone close to her, or so she thought. Yet here she was, at the mercy of the elven king himself, who kindly reminded her she did not control her emotions.

She threw the sword aside and walked away from Thranduil.

“Where are you going,” Thranduil demanded as he grabbed her arm forcing her to look at him.

“Anywhere but here with you,” she fired at him pushing him away forcibly with both her hands.

The sudden physical contact of her hands against his chest, surprised him, as it sent shivers through his tall physique. 

Miya felt the same shivers, as she was flexing her fingers after turning her back to walk away from Thranduil. The feeling was unnerving. It confused her.

While Miya regularly threw tantrums during her lessons, with both Legolas as well as Thranduil, both were pleased that she kept at them, improving her skills as time went by.

*** 

“Mithrandir, _glass nîn le_ ,” [it is my joy to see you] Thranduil greeted his guest holding out his arms.

“ _Mae g’ovannen, mellon nîn_ ,”[Well met, my friend] the wizard greeted back, briefly embracing his old friend.

“What brings you to us today,” Thranduil inquired.

“Oh, I’m just curious to see how your guest is coming along,” he wondered, as he brought the pipe he just lit to his lips.

Thranduil sighed.

“She is very talented, in all she endeavours, but she is wild, Mithrandir,” the tall elf muttered, shaking his head.

“And stubborn.”

“I had expected nothing else, in all fairness,” the wizard replied.

“You have to think, she has had no relations with elves as she grew up, she knows nothing of her heritage, of your customs, yet she is thrown into a life time’s worth of lessons on all that is elvish. She is overwhelmed, my friend,” the wizard said.

Thranduil wanted to speak, but didn’t.

“When I first encountered our young friend, I had already been observing her for a while. She was only a child. When she was a young teenager, she had struggled to stay alive for several years, having been at the mercy of whoever or whatever crossed her path. A slave trader managed to get his clutches on her, and was to sell her as a slave, to whomever was willing to pay the right amount. The slave trader was a cruel man. I observed her at the market place that day and found she had met with his whip on a number of occasions. She will have the scars on her back to prove it,” the wizard explained.

Thranduil listened in horror, not aware of Miya’s past.

“We were very fortunate indeed that it was Bard’s grandfather who managed to find the means to buy her off the slave trader. But please understand that her trust in men and others, was brought down to non-existence. You will have to be patient with her, my friend. More so than you may think is needed,” he finally said, happily sucking his pipe.

The wizard knew Miya was in the best of hands with Thranduil and was able to see an inkling of the prophecy starting to unveil. While it was unsettling, it was also reassuring. 

“I had no idea,” Thranduil finally managed. 

“We all have our skeletons, my dearest king,” the wizard replied.

“Some require more care than others,” he continued.

“You will find that there will be moments for you to educate her, but at times you will need to leave her to do her own bidding as she so desires. It will be the only way for you to get through to her,” the wizard concluded.

Thranduil just stared at the grey-haired wizard as he noted the truth in his words and nodded in confirmation.

*** 

Silence swept through the palace, as Thranduil sat in the almost dark of his throne room. He was immersed in the words on the paper he held, until he sensed a presence. He looked up, trying to focus his hearing on the tiniest of sounds. A light swoosh of garments sweeping the palace floors peaked his state of alarm.

As he followed the sounds through one of the vast hallways, he caught a glimpse of Miya, wandering the palace grounds. As he followed her, unsure of her intentions at first, he started to understand where it was she must have been going.

He continued to follow her, careful to remain unseen, not wishing for her solitude and privacy to be disturbed.

As he entered a vast cavern in the lower areas of the palace, he found Miya overlooking a beautiful underground lake. She had lit the torches present, to dimly light up the dark around her. Thranduil had suspected she would one day make her way here, as this was the only water suited for swimming in the vastness of Mirkwood that surrounded the palace. 

He observed the young elf, as she undid her robe, to reveal her dressed in nothing more than short light grey leggings, that ended halfway down her thighs. Her torso was covered in a sleeveless tunic of the same fabric as her leggings, that ran down to just above the cheeks of her backside. Her hair ran down the centre of her back in one beautiful long braid, just short of touching the hem of her tunic.

The sight of her did not leave him unstirred, as he found his breathing slightly accelerating.

Miya slowly stepped off several crudely carved rocks that served as steps of sorts, to lower herself into the water. Thranduil sensed she immediately settled, as she relaxed with the water surrounding her.

Before long, she dove below the water’s surface, only to emerge again a fair distance further into the lake. As he watched her long elegant strokes, pushing herself through the water with agility and speed, he could do nothing but appreciate the young elf. She looked beautiful in doing what she loved doing most. Occasionally, Miya would turn to make her way through the water on her back, carefully kicking through the water in the same manner a frog would. He could see her knees and thighs gently touch the surface over and over. He breasts were protruding from the surface as she floated on her back. Her nipples had hardened by the cold of the water, as the fabric of her tunic clung to her skin.

Thranduil felt fire stir in the depths of his groin. Surprised at his own physical reaction to the sight before him, and although she did not know he was there, he was glad his long tunic covered all.

After beholding the splendour of the spectacle before him, he retreated into the shadows of the cavern as Miya moved to remove herself from the water. He noticed the fabric of her swim attire clinging to her, leaving little to the imagination where the curves of her body were concerned. As he observed her more closely, he recognized some dwarfish ink art, just visible from under the hem of her leggings. He frowned. Just at the top of her shoulder blade, his eyes fell on the crescent moon- shaped birth mark. One of the signs of the prophecy she carried as a burden. 

As his eyes wandered, Miya proceeded to remove her tunic, only to reveal the angry scars on her back, of which Mithrandir had spoken to him earlier. He felt his heart break for her. She proceeded to wring the excess water from her tunic, before removing the bottom half of her swim attire. Thranduil’s heart stopped. He swallowed hard, as the beautiful round cheeks of her backside greeted him. The removal of her leggings also revealed the remainder of the dwarfish ink he noticed moments earlier. He could see the astounding decorative coiling vines and leaves that ran from her side, just below her ribs, downwards to the top half of her thigh. He surprised himself by finding the bodily decoration an added beauty to her already astonishing looks. 

As Miya wrapped herself in the robes she wore before, she swiftly moved to make her way back to her chamber, holding a bundle of wet fabric in her arms. 

She never noticed Thranduil’s presence, which is how he liked it, remembering Mithrandir’s words. In the meantime, his groin screamed for release, which he knew he would not be able to give in to. He focused on his breathing instead, before also exiting the cavern. He would find it hard to sleep, that was for certain. 

*** 

Miya slipped into a routine as days rolled by. While she trained hard with Legolas on her archery skills, she battled Thranduil in an attempt to better him at wielding a sword. He had no intention however to give into her emotional way of trying to outrank him. She would never succeed as such. Granted she had a rare talent, but Thranduil concluded that as long as she could not control her emotions, he needed to take her training up a level. 

The elven king had in the meantime involuntarily connected deeply with his young apprentice, as he could now sense her every emotion. Elves’ minds often connected when drawn to one another, which confused him. He was certainly drawn to her, but she was definitely not drawn to him, yet the connection had sprung to life, even if she had not discovered it yet. Not wanting to intrude on the depths of her private mind, he tried not to indulge in connecting to her mind too often. Not only was he in an unfair advantage when they sparred, he also felt that her mind was her own and none of his business.

In the late evenings, she would continue to slip into the cavern that housed the underground lake, when everyone else at the palace had retired. All had indeed retired but the guards on duty and the tall elf who ruled the Woodland realm. Unless Thranduil was otherwise engaged, he would follow her down to the cavern, making sure to hide in the shadows, observing her, knowing well the physical effect she had on him. 

Tonight looked like it was not going to be any different. Thranduil had however trained with her until late in the evening. When it was time for her to finally satisfy the growl in her empty stomach, it was already dark out and she merely pushed the food on her plate around absent-mindedly. Thranduil eyed her with curiosity.

“Why are you not eating?” he asked.

“I’m not hungry,” Miya lied.

Thranduil lifted his eyes up to her again, raising his chin as he spoke.

“You should eat something regardless. Your body needs sustenance.”

“You cannot force me,” Miya huffed.

Thranduil lost his patience with the young elf once more.

“ _Eat!_ ” he bellowed, almost instantly regretting the tone of his response.

Miya looked at him, her eyes large with fear.

Thranduil’s regret grew. He had not wanted for her to fear him.

“Please,” he continued softly.

Slowly Miya picked up one of the utensils on her plate, before starting to put small pieces of cheese into her mouth.

Miya did not want to eat, for good reason, but Thranduil frighteningly insisted. Had she not been quite so sore and tired, she would have fought him. She did not feel like going against him. Not that time.

As she managed to eat several bites off her plate, she finally bid Thranduil goodnight, before turning her back towards him, walking off in the opposite direction towards her chambers.

Thranduil wondered about something, as he watched her increase the distance between them.

*** 

As silence fell throughout the palace once more, as sure as morning would follow night, Thranduil heard the door of her chambers opening and closing. Miya was again on her way to the underground lake. He admired her dedication. If only he could persuade her to put in as much effort in what he and Legolas were teaching her.

Thranduil found his way into the cavern as well, only to find Miya already in the water. Like he had done the past evenings, he watched her, observed her, finding himself oddly drawn to her. He closed his eyes briefly, until he laid his eyes on the lake again.

He could not see her. He craned his neck, trying to locate her. Before long he heard the splashing of water and sensed her distress. He decided to move closer to the water, only to find her flailing her arms, inelegantly trying to keep her head above water. He heard her curse under her breath in dwarfish. Thranduil was uncertain whether to move to her aid or stay back and let her recover herself. 

Within moments he decided on the first option and jumped forward, quickly removing his tunic and knee-high boots. The next moment, he waded into the water in Miya’s direction, who was startled at the tall elf in the water with her. 

Thranduil coiled his arms around her waist quickly, before pulling her against him. As he made his way to the edge of the lake, she started to wiggle fervently.

“Let me go,” she insisted, trying to pry herself from his grip.

“Stay calm,” Thranduil shushed, now standing at the more shallow end of the lake, having let go of her waist, but still holding her wrist tightly.

“I… need… you… to… _let me go_!” Miya now shouted at him, desperate to separate herself from his touch.

As Thranduil made his way up the steps and out of the water, he let go of Miya, who dropped to the floor. 

“Are you insane?” she spat at him.

“You were in distress,” Thranduil replied coldly.

“I just have a cramp,” Miya fired back at him.

“It’s painful, but I was hardly dying.”

“It’s because you insisted that I eat so late,” she continued angrily.

“Eating and swimming don’t make good friends,” she muttered.

Silence fell between them.

Miya had half expected Thranduil to argue with her, but he didn’t.

“Where?” he simply asked.

“In my calf,” she replied in confusion, holding her leg and watching him as she noticed what clothes were left on his body, cling to him from his adventure in the water.

Thranduil did not speak. Instead he lowered himself onto his knees, lifting her foot to rest against his thigh. With his large nimble hands he allowed his fingers to squeeze and massage the hardened flesh of her calf, in an attempt to relax the tensed muscle beneath her pale skin.

The touch of his fingers against her bare skin, sent a surge of energy through her body. It felt like nothing she had ever felt before. Thranduil definitely knew what he was doing. As she felt her heart rate accelerate, she responded in the only way she knew how.

“Get your hands off me!” she screamed.

“Who in the seven hells do you think you are to touch me like that without asking,” she fired at him.

She quickly got up, gathered her robe and readied to return to her chambers.

Thranduil also got up, blue fire in his eyes. He would no longer tolerate being treated in the way Miya treated him. She had no cause to do so, as he had shown nothing but kindness to her.

In a fit of anger, he wrapped his large hands around her waist and before Miya could protest, he had swung her over his shoulder yet again. Miya was fuming and insisted he let her go, but her angry pleas went unanswered. She balled her fists and made them land hard against his back, over and over. Thranduil ignored it all, as he walked briskly in the direction of her chambers. Once inside, he slammed the door behind him. As he put her down on the chambers’ floor, he just stared at her, his nostrils flaring. Both were still dripping wet from their watery encounter in the underground lake. Thranduil’s light blue eyes pierced her very being. He could not ignore the fabric of her wet outfit revealing her body to him. He suddenly felt an undeniable attraction to her.

“Why do you insist on defying me… _all the time_?” Thranduil asked his eyes full of fire.

“Do you not understand that we are only trying to help. I am only trying to help,” his voice calming down.

“I don’t _need_ your help. I need _no one’s_ help,” Miya insisted.

“I’ve survived this long without anyone’s help and I will do so for good while to come until…” she halted.

For the first time Thranduil saw the anger in her eyes be replaced by desperation. Her uncertain future, the prophecy, it did more to her than she cared to admit.

Thranduil spoke.

“Please allow me to help?”

For a brief moment he sensed her rigid demeanour softening, before she reacted.

“No!” she spat again.

“This is my burden and mine alone. It if means my end, then so be it. I hardly doubt many will miss me as I come to pass,” anger blazing in her eyes.

Miya turned away from Thranduil, until he turned her roughly by the arm. As she tried to regain her balance, Thranduil’s mouth crashed on her lips, angrily begging for entrance, as he pulled her wet form against him with force. For the slightest of moments, she did not respond, until she opened her mouth to allow him access, as his tongue buried itself deeply into her mouth, exploring hungrily. She roughly snaked her hand around his neck, pulling him in closer to deepen their encounter. Mere moments later, she put both her hands against his chest to push him away hard. She stared at him, clearly fuming with white hot anger.

“ _Get out!_ ”

Thranduil did the only thing he could. He backed away from her, before turning to exit the chambers. As he strode through the halls of his palace in the direction of his own chambers, his long legs taking him as quickly as they managed, he thought about what had just happened. He knew he had not imagined her response to him. The corners of his mouth curled upwards ever so slightly. The wall she had so carefully built around her was starting to crumble.

***


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

In the days that followed, Thranduil worked relentlessly on her training. As they sparred and battled, the blows of his sword were more powerful than before. Legolas who was watching the pair, noticed a change in his father’s demeanour. He had not seen him train her as hard the previous times. 

Miya managed to stay ahead of his blows, as her nimble feet carried her from one spot to another to avoid any kind of contact with her sparring partner. The clinking of metal against metal rang in her ears. She was tiring fast, as they had been at it for a long time already. Sweat had collected plentiful on her forehead and her neck. Her hair clung to her sweaty face, as she continued, not yet ready to give into Thranduil’s powerful blows. For a brief moment, her foot landed on uneven ground. As she tried to regain her balance, Thranduil’s sword swiftly moved in her direction, making regrettable contact with the skin on her neck. Miya screamed, dropping her sword instantly, bringing her hand to the injury Thranduil inflicted on her.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock. He had never intended to actually cut her. Yet his emotions got the better of him. He cursed at himself for having hurt her, when he so often reminded Miya to not fight with her emotions. Regret washed over him, as he discarded his own sword to the ground, before turning his attention to Miya. 

Miya simply lifted her hand up in the air as though to keep him at a distance, while her other hand clutched her neck, blood seeping through her fingers. Thranduil was suddenly genuinely concerned that this was no superficial cut. She was actually injured and required his healers. Miya collapsed, as her legs gave way. With a thud she landed on the floor on her rear, though still in a sitting position as her bottom rested on the sandy surface below her. Her eyes were fluttering, as she struggled to keep them open. Her breathing accelerated, as though to compensate for the loss of blood. Before she felt losing consciousness, Thranduil had lifted her up in his arms and carried her to the healing chambers. Legolas could do nothing but watch as his father took Miya away from the training area.

The healers guided their king to lay Miya down on one of the beds that furnished the healing chambers. His head healer instantly set out the things he required to treat Miya’s injuries. 

“Leave us,” Thranduil insisted.

The healer nodded and exited the chambers.

Thranduil slipped off his tunic, revealing his undershirt, effectively making it more comfortable for him to care for the wounded elf that lay in front of him. As he tenderly tended to the wound, shame and hurt collected in his heart. What had he done? This was unforgiveable. He had hurt the one elf he had grown so terribly fond of. If she had no reason to hate him before, she certainly had now.

After preparing Miya’s injuries for healing, he took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a brief moment. As he put his hand on her neck, a bright golden light, much like the sun, formed between his hand and her delicate skin. It required quite some energy for him to heal her completely. Only red skin remained after he was done, but the injury had disappeared. He applied an antiseptic ointment to her neck with such care, that as he rubbed his fingertips on her flesh, he found it difficult to stop his fingers from touching her delicate skin. Though as he did, he sat down on the chair beside the bed. With pain in his heart he closed his eyes, as guilt kept on troubling his mind. He was drained.

*** 

Slowly Miya opened her eyes. Her first reaction was to bring her hand to the cut that was inflicted on her. She felt no injury. There was no cut. The skin was sore, but there was nothing there. As she sat up on the bed, she took in her surroundings. Quickly she understood she had been taken to the healing chambers. Her eyes fell on the tall elf slumped on the chair beside the bed. He looked exhausted. She noticed her blood on his shirt and his hands. 

One of the healers entered the room to check on her. 

“What happened?” she asked the healer.

“The king has taken away that which he regrettably inflicted on you,” the healer eloquently replied.

“He healed me?” Miya asked.

“Healing takes a lot of his energy, it drains him profusely,” the healer explained.

“It is for that reason you find him in this state at this very moment, though I suspect guilt and regret added to his drained form. It is best to let him recharge,” the healer advised.

Miya just watched Thranduil. She almost felt sorry for him, until her recollections of the day before ran back to her. He had pushed her so hard, that an accident had been inevitable and she hated him for it. Yet he had made right what he wronged, meaning he in a way admitted he was at fault. She did not believe he had intentionally meant to physically hurt her. He saved her life, as she had saved his some moons prior. They were even.

Because she felt well enough, she collected her clothes and silently made her way back to own her chambers, leaving Thranduil to his own recovery.

*** 

In the next days, Miya picked up her training as she decided that the elves were indeed only trying to help. As long as no one commanded her to do anything, she promised to herself that she would not always defy everything Legolas and Thranduil were trying to teach her. Or rather, she would not always defy Thranduil. She would try at least.

Miya had not seen Thranduil for several days, beginning to wonder if he recovered well from the incident that came to pass recently. She surprised herself at her own empathic thoughts for the Elven king.

As she made her way down to the barracks, she expected Legolas to be waiting for her. Instead, Thranduil stood in the middle of the training grounds, his face slightly upwards, his eyes closed, his hands loosely interlocked behind him and his back turned towards her. The light breeze played with the ends of his long hair. 

“You are surprised,” he spoke without opening his eyes or lowering his head.

“Wondering why you haven’t seen me for some time now,” he continued.

“Curious as to what I have in store for you today,” he concluded.

Miya frowned.

“How…?”

Thranduil finally turned to face her, a delicate smile on his mouth.

“Before we begin, please let me offer my humblest apologies. I have hurt you terribly and I am finding it difficult to even forgive myself, therefore I will not blame you if you do not,” he managed, struggling to find the right words.

Miya wanted to speak, but Thranduil lifted his finger up, indicating he was not yet done.

“ _Naethen_! I am so, so sorry!” he finally broke.

For a moment it looked like he wanted to continue his monologue, but didn’t. He had no other words to describe his regret and decided it to be better to remain silent.

As Miya watched him, she decided that they might actually get along from that day forth.

“Will you tell me how you were able to assess my surprise and wondering where you had been and how I’m curious about today’s training?” she asked him softly.

Thranduil’s expression softened as relief washed over him.

“That, my dearest Miya, will be part of today’s training,” he explained.

“What you may have learned at one point, is that elves are able to link their minds, sensing one another, conversing with one another, without uttering a single word,” he said.

“The ever wise and beautiful Lady Galadriel is able to reach out to anyone in Middle-Earth from great distances, speaking to them as if she was standing right next to them.”

“It is a skill which she has developed and perfected in the many thousands of years she has lived among us.”

“While I do not expect you to be quite so accomplished in only a few moons’ time, we will attempt to scratch the surface today,” he claimed. 

Thranduil noted the excitement in her eyes. She was ready.

“Clear your mind of all,” he asked softly.

Miya already found her first task a difficult one, what with Thranduil standing so close to her. She felt distracted by his presence, heat radiating from his body. It made her nervous, yet him being there stirred something good within her, a soothing sensation that she could not explain. However, as she focused, she finally managed to clear her mind mostly.

As Thranduil guided her, it was as if his voice fell further into the distance. She could still hear him, but not as though he was standing next to her.

“Focus. You will sense more than just what is your own. Acknowledge what is not yours. If you do not, you will never be able to link or bond with anyone,” Thranduil guided her as best he could.

He sensed she was searching with her thoughts, but was not quite able, or rather willing to acknowledge Thranduil’s mind. She sensed it was there, but only his mind’s presence settled in her head.

“Let me make this easier for you,” Thranduil offered.

His mind conjured up a picture of the underground lake, which she was so fond of. Visualising something was easier to sense than a state of mind or emotion. He made the picture available to her in his mind.

“I can see it,” she exclaimed excitedly.

Thranduil smiled.

“That is a very good start,” he praised.

“You will find that, as we practice, you will not only be able to see what I allow you to see, but in time you will sense anything other than visualisations. You will sense emotions, but you have to feel and accept them. You must open yourself up to them. Once you do, there will be no end to your abilities,” he promised.

Miya was trying to take in the words her teacher was offering her. She could reason the why behind it, but feared that acknowledging what she sensed would again make her vulnerable. She was not ready for more heartbreak. She had only lived for a century and if fate would favour it, she would live considerably longer, meaning she would lose more people around her over time.

Thranduil sensed her emotions and was able to interpret the meaning behind them.

“Do not forget that we are the same. We do not perish in time, only when our fate chooses otherwise,” Thranduil said, meaning to say that all elves were immortal. 

She would not likely lose anyone of her own kind. If she chose to emotionally attach herself to them, she would form strong bonds that could last until the end of time itself. She had to be willing though. That was going to be the biggest challenge.

*** 

As Legolas and Thranduil took a break from teaching Miya the art of combat, Thranduil had taken it upon himself to educate her on elvish customs and the language of Sindarin. Thranduil was a pure blood Sindar elf and took great pride in upholding all that related to his heritage. While he was not certain whether Miya was Sindar or Silvan, he decided to teach her the basics of his language. Thranduil had invited Miya to his private chambers, as it held a large collection of books that would aid in his teachings. Miya was reluctant at first to even set foot in his personal residence of the palace. She felt out of place, but Thranduil welcomed her warmly.

In the same way she proved talented in all he taught her, she was equally so in learning Sindarin. From time to time she struggled finding the right words, as she had been more exposed to the common tongue and dwarfish as she aged, but she was a quick learner.

Miya found that she no longer felt the need to defy her teacher, but on occasion he would drive her to the edge of reason and she exploded in frustration. 

Thranduil merely smiled as he beheld her, finding his attraction to her growing.

“ _Nar edhel nîn_ ,” he muttered under his breath as he looked away from her.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you, what does that mean?” Miya asked.

“I have heard you say it several times in my presence,” not quite sure she wanted to hear what it really meant.

Thranduil took a deep breath, aware that what he was about to say would make him quite vulnerable.

“It is a term of endearment, of sorts,” he explained.

Miya raised her eyebrows. He had a term of endearment for her? Before Thranduil continued, she felt her heart skip a beat, suddenly feeling drawn to him.

“It means _fiery elf of mine_ , in Sindarin,” he managed.

Miya looked at Thranduil intensely.

“Of _yours_?” she asked

Thranduil nodded.

Miya stood up from the table they were sitting at. She brought her hand to her mouth as she realised what the elven king was telling her.

Thranduil also got up and slowly made his way towards her.

Miya just looked up at him as he drew close. Before she realised his lips were on hers. Warm and appealing. She felt him asking permission. As new emotions washed over her and lust stirred between her legs, she granted him permission. Relieved of this, Thranduil delved his tongue deep into the warmth of her mouth. He felt her tongue returning the favour in response. As his arms pulled her close to his body, she felt his excited state press against her. She felt it make her knees weak, wanting more. Before long her one hand wrapped around his neck, pulling him towards her, intensifying the passion that developed between them, while the other fisted in his beautiful long manes. Thranduil’s breathing accelerated and his actions grew more passionate. Miya sensed his actions wanting more. She was more than happy to give more, but apprehension grew inside her.

Thranduil slowly broke their connection.

“You are afraid. What is wrong?” he asked softly.

Miya looked away in embarrassment.

“You are ashamed?” he asked sensing her.

Miya looked at him in anger.

“Will you stop looking into my head,” she spat at him.

Thranduil was confused.

“Do you not feel there is something between us? Something worth exploring?” Thranduil wondered in earnest.

“I want to worship you, your body, your whole being. I will however not do so without your consent,” he professed.

“Please tell me that my senses have not been deceiving me? That you desire the same?” he pleaded.

Miya could not confess to any of it, though her heart cried out to be with him.

“It’s not that…” she finally managed.

“…I am… I have never…”

She stopped speaking.

Thranduil brought her fingers to her chin, lifting her face up towards his.

“You are untouched?” he asked.

Miya nodded.

Thranduil sighed. It was a sigh of contentment, relief, as he briefly thought Miya had something earth-shattering to share with him. Miya however, misinterpreted his response, thinking it was a sigh of disappointment.

Within moments, she let go of Thranduil and made to exit his chambers.

Thranduil was confused as to what had just happened.

***


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Miya sat on the edge of her bed thinking of how Thranduil had responded to the revelation that she had never been with anyone. In the briefest of moments, she was ready to give into her lust and was happy for the elven king to be her first. Regardless of whether she felt something for him or not, he would certainly be worth it. She cursed under her breath. He had no need for an inexperienced elf, she told herself. 

As she prepared for bed, dressing herself in a featherlight night tunic, she laid her head on the pillow. She couldn’t find rest. Thranduil kept entering her thoughts. Anger flared inside of her. He had better not be trying to get into her head again. Still she wondered. He had after all taken the initiative to kiss her. _Twice_.

She turned to her side, desperately trying to fall asleep. She wasn’t very successful. The whole situation infuriated her. He had done that to her.

She quickly got out of bed, exited her chambers and walked in the direction of the king’s private domain, where a guard stood watch. She pounded on the door heavily, until she heard a voice from inside.

“ _Minno!_ ” [enter]

She looked at the guard, as she was unfamiliar with the Sindar word that reached her ears. The guard nodded.

“You can go inside,” he said quietly.

She slipped into his chambers and closed the door behind her. Before long she thundered, while walking in Thranduil’s direction.

“What are you doing to me?”

“I cannot sleep now, and it’s all your fault!”

Thranduil slowly rose from the sofa he was sitting on, dressed in a dark red velvet robe.

“Good,” he said as he approached her.

“Let’s see if we can remedy that!”

Miya raised her eyebrows and before she realised what had happened, he had lifted her up in his arms and walked towards his bed. He lowered her down gently. He first stared at her before speaking. Miya was uncertain whether a response was expected from her.

“Not without your consent,” he stated, referring to his earlier words.

Miya swallowed nervously.

“You have it,” she whispered, much surprising herself with the words she had just spoken.

Thranduil’s heart hammered inside his chest and proceeded to slowly lie down next to her slender form.

He let his hand travel along her thigh, brushed his fingers on her hip, before gently cupping her breast through the thin fabric of her tunic, his thumb on her nipple.

His breathing became more evident as he brought his mouth to her rosy lips. He begged for entrance once more, which she was happy to give. Passion exploded between them again, as their tongues battled for more. Thranduil’s hands became more impatient, which bothered him significantly. He had to take things slowly with his fiery elf.

“Stop me whenever you feel I should,” Thranduil begged her.

“I have no desire to hurt you in any way!”

Miya fluttered her eyes to indicate she understood.

Thranduil was so gentle with her, that she felt light-headed. It was a new sensation to her.

He whispered to her lovingly.

“I will show you what it means to receive pleasure. It will be my honour to bestow this gift upon you.”

“Your pleasure above mine, always!” he murmured as his lips barely separated from hers.

“It is the elvish way,” he finally said before turning his attention to the tunic she was still wearing.

He slowly reached for the hem of the fabric, lifting it up. Miya briefly lifted herself for him to be able to remove the tunic from her upper body, until she was lying before him naked. Her heart felt as though it was ready to jump out of her chest. Thranduil just stared at her for a while.

“Perfect,” he whispered.

Slowly, he brought his lips to her collarbone. Both his hands now wandered freely on her body, as he had repositioned himself in a way as though he was hovering over her. He languidly trailed kisses down her breasts, until he reached her flat belly. He then turned his kisses to the softness just above her most vulnerable spot.

“Please, _nar edhel nîn_ , [my fiery elf] open yourself to me?” he softly asked.

Somewhat hesitantly she pushed her thighs aside, leaving her completely at his mercy. As his face settled between her legs, he marvelled at her wondrous sex.

“ _Main!_ Beautiful!”

Thranduil sensed her being nervous. Without leaving her to wonder too much, he brought his lips to her inner thighs. Slowly kissing his way to her core. First, he planted a soft kiss there. She gasped. Then he turned his tongue to the same spot. Miya felt a tremendous sensation wash over her. Never could she have imagined such pleasure, such joy. She brought her hands to her face and closed her eyes. 

She wasn’t certain how long Thranduil managed to stay between her legs like that, but it almost seemed forever. Quite unexpectedly he changed his position. With the tip of his fingers, he touched her entrance. She was ready for him, dripping with slickness.

“You will be able to handle me better now,” he whispered as he settled on his knees, still between her legs. Miya considered his words, wondering exactly what he meant by _handling him_. She was nervous.

He moved to untie the sash of his robe. As he opened the fabric, Miya widened her eyes, while she beheld his beautiful slender though strong body. She lowered her gaze to find him erect and ready for more. She felt apprehension sneaking into her heart. Thranduil sensed it, but said nothing.

Slowly he lowered himself onto her, settling his hips between her legs. He looked deeply into her eyes, before brushing his lips against hers. As his tongue explored her mouth yet again, he slowly positioned himself at her entrance and pushed forward carefully. Miya broke the kiss and gasped, her eyes wide with fear.

“Relax, _meleth nîn_ , this is meant to be,” he whispered.

Miya wondered briefly what the elvish words meant. Thranduil found his words had offered just enough distraction from the slight stinging sensation she seemed to be experiencing. She felt him push forward further, almost agonisingly slow. She felt her need for him grow. She decided to urge him on, as she cupped his face with her hands. It encouraged him to be bold and with one fluent movement he pushed himself into her welcoming warmth fully. Miya gasped again, her eyes tightly shut. He paused for a moment, allowing her to adjust to his presence. When she felt comfortable enough, he could sense it and slowly he began to move with deliberate rolling thrusts. He pushed himself into her deeply, over and over. In response, Miya lifted her legs and pressed them up against his sides. Thranduil wrapped one hand around her shoulder for leverage, while the other kneaded her decorated hip. She felt wet below him and the ease at which he was able to move within her felt mind-blowing. While Miya had only tensed moments before, she had started to relax shortly after and only moments later soft moans escaped from her mouth. The corners of Thranduil’s mouth curled upwards in content, as he found his mission of pleasuring her already a success.

He felt she was ready for more and began thrusting into her with more power and steadily allowed himself an increased pace. Miya’s head swam with so many emotions and sensations, that she was unable to focus, until one sensation started to emerge from her depths, more prominently present than anything else she was feeling. Slowly she understood what it was, and she felt the desperate need for it to develop. Thranduil felt it too and responded happily. Miya held onto him, her hands squeezing his backside, trailing her fingers over his back, where sweat had started to collect between the shoulder blades. His long hair brushed her shoulders. She noticed nothing of it as she felt herself climax so intensely, that she threw her head back and screamed. Thranduil just smiled, not stopping his pleasuring movements, until he felt her shake beneath him, allowing her to ride the waves of her ecstasy. It was all he needed to ignite his own release and with a loud grunt, he emptied himself deeply inside her. As he stopped moving, he lowered himself onto her, resting the majority of his weight on his elbows. Miya just looked at him.

“Did I hurt you?” Thranduil asked in genuine concern

She shook her head.

As he withdrew himself from her, Miya turned to lie on her side, her back towards her lover. For the second time, Thranduil met with her past. The angry scars on her back stood out from the smooth skin on the rest of her body. It brought tears to his eyes.

“Please tell me about these,” he asked softly, as he trailed his fingers across the delicate, once-broken skin.

Miya didn’t respond immediately. The next moment, she quickly got up from the bed, slipped on her tunic and exited his chambers.

Thranduil fell back onto the bed, sighing deeply. Again she had left him in confusion.

*** 

Recent events weighed heavily on Thranduil’s mind, as he sat on the steps of his throne or wood and stone. The passion between him and Miya was sincere, there was no doubt about that. He had sensed pleasure engulf her, while he felt honoured being her first. He had been kind, gentle, loving and caring, yet she pushed him away. Mithrandir’s words returned to his memory, that Miya needed to be left to do her own bidding from time to time. He sighed. She was a complicated elf. Mithrandir’s wise words of being patient, seemed very wise indeed.

Thranduil had decided to put Miya’s training into Legolas’ care for a little while, until she felt ready to face him again. It was a difficult decision, as his heart ached for her, but he knew it was the right one.

Regularly, Thranduil observed her training with Legolas, but he was careful not to be seen. He had no desire to disturb her focus and focus was what she needed most. As Miya and Legolas took a break, they settled themselves on a wooden bench, Thranduil noticed Miya flinch and a small gasp escaped her lips the moment she sat down. She quickly repositioned herself for more comfort. Clearly her core still felt sensitive from her first intimate experience with a mate. He had done everything not to hurt her, but this was to be expected, as it was her first time after all. 

Several days passed. Thranduil had continued with his duties as king. Miya was no longer staying clear of him, as she again regularly joined him for meals. Their conversations were brief, without content, but at least they were on speaking terms once more. He was happy about this, as he learned that he could no longer sense her emotions like before. Her speaking to him, though rarely, was a comforting alternative. He concluded that she had managed to involuntarily block him from her mind. While he felt genuinely sorry about this, he also acknowledged that this was a breakthrough. Her mind was clearly more powerful than he initially thought.

*** 

Darkness surrounded the palace. Miya strolled the halls of the palace barefoot, dressed in her nightly attire. Suddenly she stopped at the door of the chambers belonging to the one person she had been staying clear from. There was no guard this time. Slowly she pushed the heavy set wooden door open and quietly closed it again behind her as she entered the king’s private chambers. 

As she walked through the ante-chamber, towards the bed, she found Thranduil in a peaceful state of sleep. He was lying on his back and had rested his arms above his head, while his hair had draped across the pillow. The covers had slid down to his navel. His toned, bare chest greeted her. She gasped in awe of the sight before her. For a moment she just observed him. The sight of him unleashed fire in her core, which she knew only her lover could extinguish. Quietly she slipped off the fabric she was wearing. She slid the covers off of him to discover he was sleeping naked. She swallowed hard as she found his impressive shaft resting against his thigh. 

She carefully moved to straddle his thighs. She felt nervous, but was bold enough to take him into her hands. She gently started massaging him. Thranduil stirred at the sensation, not yet fully waking. She felt him grow in her hands as her own throbbing between her legs readied her for him. Slowly she repositioned herself to straddle his hips, positioning him under her entrance. She sighed deeply as she lowered herself onto him. She flinched for a brief moment at her still tender and inexperienced womanhood. The next moment Thranduil opened his eyes and smiled at the sight before him, sensing her wetness around his slightly pulsating erection. 

Miya placed her hands on his chest and slowly rolled her hips to massage him with the tightness of her novice folds. Thranduil closed his eyes once more, leaning his head back onto his pillow, mesmerised by it all. He brought his hands up to tenderly massage her perfect breasts. It enticed Miya to be bold as she intensified her movements, clenching firmly around his hardness. The position allowed for deep and intimate penetration and it was sending Miya over the moon more quickly than she had anticipated. 

Thranduil noticed by the expression on her face, that she would not be all too long before peaking. He tenderly squeezed the soft flesh on her hips and pushed her down onto him with power, as he thrust into her upwards. He felt his own climax nearing, but held back as he had made Miya a promise, several nights before. _Her pleasure above his own, always_. It was all he wanted to give her, love and pleasure. Miya’s muscles tensed as she felt her orgasm reach out to her from deep down. She shuddered in the aftermath, while Thranduil kept thrusting into her, before releasing his warmth to meet her wet core. Their movements slowed and ultimately halted. Miya lowered her upper body down onto Thranduil’s chest, where he wrapped his arms around her back, while still buried deep inside her. He tenderly kissed her neck as Miya tried to gain control of her breathing.

Miya removed herself from on top of her lover. As she inclined to get up, Thranduil spoke.

“Please stay?”

Miya closed her eyes, then briefly turned so her eyes met his. She saw the plea on his face.

She decided to slide back onto the bed again, lying on her side, her back facing him. Thranduil kissed her shoulder tenderly before wrapping his arm around her waist, settling behind her.

“ _Losto vae, meleth nîn_ ,” [sleep well, my love] he whispered.

*** 

Thranduil felt as though he had slept for a long time, but it was still dark outside. Only then did he sense the cold around him. He was again the sole occupant of his bed. Miya had abandoned his side once more as he slept and he had not even noticed it. Thranduil’s heart cried.

*** 

Thranduil sat at the table of his great hall, one leg crossed over the other nonchalantly, as he was again immersed in the words on the papers he held. Miya entered the room. Her demeanour was that of a shy little girl. She sat down close to Thranduil, who looked up and almost immediately looked away again, his eyes on the paperwork once more. Miya was disappointed that the attention he had given her previously, seemed to have been replaced by him ignoring her. She huffed as she threw herself back onto the chair.

Thranduil raised his eyebrows.

“Something the matter?” he asked coldly.

“I don’t know, you tell me,” Miya replied.

Thranduil got up, leaving his papers on the table.

“No! It is time you told me, but seeing you have no intention of talking to me, I should perhaps reconsider being by your side at all anymore. _Aur vaer!_ ” [good day]

Miya was taken aback by his sudden formal way of addressing her, though she couldn’t really blame him.

“I wish you a good day too!” she responded to the Sindarin he just spoke, letting him know she had understood the elvish words.

As Thranduil walked away, a smiled appeared on his face. It seemed he was getting through to her, though slowly.

*** 

While Thranduil did not particularly like it, it seemed Miya had a desire of paying him regular nightly visits. Only two nights after she had woken him with her blissful surprise, she had sneaked into his chamber again.

This time Thranduil was not sleeping, but rather relaxing with a book and some wine in front of the fireplace.

Miya stepped in front of him, swallowing nervously.

“ _Naethen! Goheno nîn!_ ” [I’m sorry. Forgive me] she spoke in her best Sindarin.

Thranduil smiled and replied.

“No need to be sorry. There is nothing to forgive!”

Miya managed a little smile, before moving towards him, her body language not hiding what it was she wanted. What followed was beautiful love-making between two elves, who connected more so than was spoken out loud. They never made it to the bed, instead they found pleasure in each other’s arms in front of the roaring fire on the soft carpet on the floor. Afterwards, both were completely spent and fell asleep beneath warm furs, while Miya had rested herself on Thranduil’s chest. He held onto her firmly, afraid she would again slip away the moment he let go. 

She did.

*** 

Thranduil kept telling himself, that Miya’s nightly visits were necessary for her to discover where the situation was to take her. He convinced himself to be patient with her. However, his heart felt heavy. He was pleased with her visits, but was concerned that what had developed between them was nothing more but ordinary lust. He could really use Mithrandir’s council, he thought as he sighed.

Meanwhile, Legolas decided to give Miya a change of scenery with her training. Practicing her archery skills inside of the palace walls, only gave her so much insight in what archery had in store for her. Thranduil was hesitant to let Miya out of the palace, concerned that she might still remove herself from her kin, strong-headed as she was. Instead, he knew he could not keep Miya prisoner. Thranduil told Legolas to ride ahead with Miya, he would follow, as he too wanted to continue the sword-wielding lessons, keen on improving Miya’s skills further. Her protection was key to him.

The mood was light between Legolas and Miya, as he commended her for her evident talent. She enjoyed being out in Mirkwood, regardless of the lurking dangers that hid in the forest’s shadows. As Thranduil reached the area where his son and Miya were practicing, he stopped and lingered in the density of the green, to observe the beautiful creature he had taken as his lover. 

Suddenly a startled look on Legolas’ face made him crane his neck, as he too sensed they were not alone. Several large spiders leapt from the shadows of the trees to attack them. Legolas’ speed with the bow was unparalleled, but even Miya stood her ground with the sword in her hand, applying the skills which Thranduil had so carefully taught her in the past while. Quite suddenly, one spider managed to knock the sword from her grip. Miya screamed, while Legolas was fending off three spiders to keep her and himself from harm. 

“Legolas!” she screamed, looking at her hands, which had suddenly started to glow. Even the spiders seemed taken aback.

Thranduil was in shock, leaping forward to their aid. As he drew closer to Miya, he found that she had frozen in her spot, her eyes were bright white. The strand of white hair had lit up like nothing he had seen before. Her entire being seemed to be engulfed in white light. The ground started to shake and the light emitting from her turned brighter and brighter.

“Thranduil! Legolas! You must go or you will die!” she thundered.

“ _Go!_ ”

Within moments Thranduil did what he thought was best. He had no desire to leave Miya’s side. If she was destined to die right there and then, then he would be happy to die with her. He unsheathed his sword and began furiously attacking the spiders that were still around them. As he fought desperately to keep them at a distance, Miya had turned into a ball of white light. Light that looked like the moon itself had gifted her with its grandeur. 

Legolas managed to pierce one last arrow through one of the spiders’ heads, as Thranduil separated another spider’s half of his body from its other half. Quickly other spiders retreated back into the shadows. Both Thranduil and his son turned immediately to look at Miya, who was still engulfed in white light, shaking the ground they stood on. Thranduil spoke first.

“Miya, _meleth nîn_ , the danger has come to pass for now. You can relax. We are no longer in any danger!”

The bright light around Miya died down, her grey eyes returned to her. As soon as the white light had completely disappeared, she fell to the ground.

Both father and son moved to her unconscious state within moments, both unsure of what had just happened. As Thranduil lifted her up into his arms, he felt her shallow breathing. She looked like exhaustion got the better of her. Thranduil lifted her onto his horse to sit in front of him sideways, as he cradled her, partly wrapping his cloak around her. Legolas moved to take Miya’s horse and guide it as he rode his own. As the party made their way back to the palace, Thranduil held onto Miya tightly. From time to time he glanced down at her unconscious form, concerned by her vulnerability for her well-being. He needed answers.

***


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Gandalf had wasted no time when word reached him on the latest developments of the weapon. Of Miya. Only a few days had passed before the wizard had reached the palace gates in Mirkwood. Thranduil greeted him warmly, but also urged him to follow him to his private chambers immediately. Upon entering the chambers, the wizard met with Bard’s concerned expression, as he too was invited to meet with Thranduil in his palace.

Silence fell between the three men before Thranduil spoke.

“There have been developments.”

Gandalf raised his eyebrows as he was about to light his pipe. 

“What kind of developments, my dearest Thranduil,” Gandalf asked kindly.

Thranduil closed his eyes.

“Disturbing ones. I fear for Miya’s well-being,” he continued.

Gandalf seemed undisturbed in enjoying his pipe.

“Pray tell, my dearest king, as I am eager to hear of it. I too have something to share, but I will let you speak first,” the wizard said with a tone as he already had an idea of what the Elven king was about to tell him.

“My son and I were training with Miya in the forest, only a few days ago. A welcome change of scenery was needed to allow for Miya to make the progress in her combat skills that may further aid in her protection. We were ambushed by a fair number of giant spiders. We barely had the situation under control when Miya’s sword was knocked from her grip. The next moment, Miya’s very being turned into a bright white light, like the very moon was among us. Her eyes glowed, her hands glowed, the white strand of hair that stands out on her brown head…” he paused.

“Hmmm,” Gandalf merely uttered, not in the least bit surprised or shocked.

Thranduil seemed disturbed that what he was telling the wizard, left him so unmoved. He continued.

“…just as Legolas and I gained control, we were able to deflect what for a moment seemed imminent disaster. Miya calmed and the light she was emitting subsided. She collapsed afterwards. She was unconscious for a little while after the ordeal.”

Gandalf sucked the end of his pipe.

“ _That_ … my dearest friend was the weapon revealing itself to you,” he muttered.

Thranduil seemed confused.

“The weapon reveals itself only in clear and present danger. Did anything else happen?” Gandalf asked.

“Miya told me and Legolas to leave as she indicated it would surely kills us,” Thranduil continued.  
Gandalf smiled.

“Indeed, my friend. She was absolutely right. Had her power not subsided, she would have destroyed anything and everything in a wide range around her, including you and your son, as well as herself.”

“I believe Miya subconsciously understands the consequence of the power, if not wielded properly,” Gandalf spoke again.

“She understands that it will mean her death, until she learns how to avoid it and handle herself,” Gandalf indicated.

The words brought tears to Thranduil’s eyes, which did not go unnoticed by the wizard’s keen perception.

“My dearest Thranduil, have you bedded Miya?” he asked.

Thranduil was evidently taken aback by the directness of the question that came from the wizard’s mouth.

“Do not feel offended,” Gandalf continued.

“I have seen how you look at her and I doubt I’m mistaken in how she has beheld you in the same manner,” the wizard said in a matter-of-fact like-voice.

Gandalf smiled. Thranduil’s usual cold demeanour had managed to hide none of his feelings for Miya.

Thranduil finally spoke.

“Yes! I have bedded her.”

“Good,” Gandalf said excitedly. Bard frowned.

“She gave you her consent?” Gandalf asked.

“She did,” Thranduil replied.

“She gave you her heart,” Gandalf continued.

Thranduil did not understand.

“Are you asking me, Mithrandir?” he asked.

“No my dearest friend, I’m telling you!” Gandalf said amusedly.

Gandalf continued to explain.

“Miya has whole-heartedly decided to give herself to you. In the process she has given you her heart, whether she had intended to or not, but it has happened, that is for certain.”

“What I have witnessed is that she keeps pushing me away, and I do not understand why,” Thranduil said frustratedly.

Gandalf’s smile continued.

“What you are witnessing is Miya coming to terms with the fact whether she has feelings for you or not. Do you recall when I said that the truest of loves is a power not to be underestimated?” Gandalf asked.

Both men nodded.

“Miya has opened up her heart to you. It is a strong and deep emotion for an elf so young. It has effectively triggered the weapon to manifest itself. You yourself were witness to that very fact only days ago. Had the weapon been destined to its full potential that day, you, Legolas and Miya would not have survived. You and Legolas could have left her to save yourselves, but Miya’s destiny is different from your own. She is, let’s say, _stuck_ with it.”

Thranduil listened to the words from the wizard.

“Miya’s only way of surviving her own newly acquired abilities, if she in time can admit to her true feelings. Her feelings for you, my king. She must acknowledge them and come to terms with them.”

Thranduil wanted to speak, but the wizard cut him off.

“Miya has not grown up with elves, but only with men and dwarfs. She has seen those she loves, grow up with her and perish in time. It has hurt her over and over. She only pushes you away, because she is afraid of being heartbroken again, like she has been so many times before. Though quite involuntarily, she has already given her heart to you. She may have never meant for that to happen, but she has regardless. And now she faces her biggest battle, to allow her mind to join her heart in opening up to the one she loves.”

Bard finally spoke.

“And that would allow her to live?” he asked

“My dearest bowman, that is what Miya needs to do in order to survive her abilities of being a powerful weapon,” Gandalf explained.

“Her heart and mind need to become one, as it will give her strength beyond measure. For as long as they are detached, she is vulnerable and in danger to her own self,” Gandalf concluded.

Thranduil sighed and let himself lean back against his chair. So many of her actions were all of a sudden explained to him.

“What can I do to help?” Thranduil asked.

Gandalf sighed.

“Not much I’m afraid. It is all up to her now,” the wizard said.

Gandalf stopped speaking and for a while all three men were silent, until the wizard spoke again.

“Love her!” he suddenly insisted.

“It is the only way!”

Outside of the chamber’s door, a sobbing sound came. Miya had overheard it all.

*** 

Miya had thought long and hard of the conversation she had overheard from Thranduil’s chambers. She refused to love anyone, she would not be heartbroken again. Her heart had been crushed too many times. It had hurt her deeply and she had absolutely no desire to feel that again. 

Would it however, be so easy to just give into loving someone? She kept being drawn back to her past, when loving others had led to nothing but pain and grief. She was so very afraid, yet she ached to be with her beautiful tall elf. She found it difficult to resist him, as she kept feeling the need to be by his side, to touch him, to…

She stopped her train of thought. No! She would not. She could not. 

As she crawled into her bed, she curled up like a little ball, thinking about all that she had learned in the time she had spent in Mirkwood. She was so confused.

Time rolled by, but still she found she couldn’t rest, let alone sleep. She felt cold, not physically, but emotionally. She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, before stepping out of bed, strolling in the direction of the one person she felt the need to be with.

The guard by the chamber’s door had become accustomed to her regular visits and did not pay her much attention as she pushed open the heavy set wooden door.

She found Thranduil in a deep sleep, his bare shoulders and strong arms just above the covers. She slipped off her tunic and crawled under the covers only to settle herself behind him, her bare skin against his, her soft breasts against his warm, strong back. She wrapped her arm around his waist and nuzzled him between the shoulder blades, just below his neck. Before long, his warmth comforted her and she fell into a deep slumber.

Only a short time had passed, when Thranduil stirred, as he noticed the weight draped across his waist. He recognised Miya’s arm and hand. He smiled as he settled back onto his pillow, resting his own hand on top of hers and drifted off once more.

As morning came calling, both Miya and Thranduil had turned in their sleep. It was Thranduil who had settled behind Miya, having draped his strong long arm around her protectively. As he slowly woke, he marvelled at the fact that she had decided to pay him a nightly visit, though not for another physical encounter, as he feared her lust was the one and only thing that made her come back to him, but for comfort and affection. His heart was ready to explode, he felt so happy. He started planting butterfly kisses on her shoulder. He kissed the crescent moon birth mark and continued to kiss her scars with such gentleness, that Miya, who was just waking, felt tearful.

She stirred, unsure how to respond to Thranduil kissing her scars in the way he did.

“I can take these away from you, you know?” he whispered aware of the fact that Miya just woke.

Miya simply nodded, not wanting to reveal her tears to him.

“I’m not yet ready to part with the one reminder that I will not be commanded to do what anyone tells me to,” Miya said softly.

Thranduil understood.

“Should you ever change your mind, just say the word and I will heal you,” he said as he planted more kisses on her back.

“Thank you,” she merely managed.

She slowly turned to face him, until both of them were lying on their sides. She was drowning in the piercing gaze of his light blue eyes. Thranduil in turn, observed every line, every hue of colour he could possibly detect on her face. He slowly brought his lips to her, as his hands wandered up and down her back. Before long Miya felt her own need to touch him grow and she wrapped her arms around his waist to let her hands do some exploring of their own. She could feel Thranduil tightening his hold on her, pressing himself against her more tightly. Miya felt her arousal gather between her legs and she moaned softly. The movements of their bodies against one another, caused enough friction for Thranduil’s hardness to stir between them. He closed his eyes and grunted softly. She smiled at what she was doing to him.

All of a sudden she felt Thranduil lift her thigh up and pull her leg around his waist. He was holding her tightly in the hollow of her knee, effectively opening up her core to him. He shifted slightly and without using his hands, she felt him positioning himself at her entrance. While his right hand still held her leg, his left hand snaked around her shoulders, effectively bringing her face closer to his, before he again crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue instantly seeking hers. She was happy to respond as she felt his hardness push into her with such determination, it brought tears to her eyes. For a brief moment she disconnected her lips from his, merely looking into his exquisite eyes. He let go of her leg, which she managed to keep in place herself, the leg still half curled around his waist. He used his hand to wipe the tears from her face.

“Don’t cry, _meleth nîn!_ ”

She kissed the palm of his hand tenderly, before he lowered his hand once more to support her leg around his waist.

With a slow rolling thrust, she felt him slide into her warmth, and soon he repeated his actions over and over. Miya had positioned her face into his neck, her cheeks against his silky hair, tears still flowing, while he pushed into her deeper and further and again and again.

After a short while, Thranduil shifted to roll onto his back, pulling her with him, allowing Miya the dominant position. She rolled her hips, squeezing him with the tightness of her folds repeatedly. Thranduil could once again sense her as it seemed her guard on blocking him was down. He could feel her emotions overwhelming her. As she lowered her upper body, her breasts pressed down against his chest, she just held onto him, while he kept thrusting into her upwards, his arms wrapped around her waist, holding her steady as he looked for her to climb and reach the top of her ecstasy.

Suddenly he rolled them both, obtaining top position again, as he fervently kept pushing into her. Miya lifted her one leg and again curled it around his back, while the other allowed for her foot to rest on his calf. Thranduil’s breathing became accelerated, as he kept pushing harder into her wet warmth.

“I won’t be much longer,” he managed almost apologetically.

She just smiled at him, knowing that he would never allow himself to finish first. He closed his eyes, fighting off his urge to peak before she would.

He could feel her tighten around him. His thrusts were increasing with power and within moments, he felt her squeezing him, shuddering and writhing beneath him. She closed her eyes and in between her erratic breathing she whispered.

“Your turn.”

It was all he needed for his final release. He screamed her name loudly as he exploded deep inside her, ensuring she would take all of him. 

For a moment Miya thought he would not find his ability to breathe normally ever again, but slowly he managed to bring himself back, his arms shaking from supporting himself. He slowly lowered himself on her, gently resting his body on hers, while still connected deeply inside her. His cheek rested on her shoulder and Miya kissed his silky manes on the top of his head.

Slowly he removed himself from her core. Her legs trembled from the exercise, as she barely managed to bring her thighs together again. Thranduil wrapped his arm around her, snuggling up to her as she too was trying to calm her own breathing. A moment of silence followed, before Thranduil spoke.

“I think I love you.”

Panic engulfed her. Instinctively she wanted to jump out of her lover’s bed and run away, but she knew better than that. Instead she remained where she was and _hm’d_ pretending to drift off into a peaceful slumber, hoping Thranduil would not hold the lack of response against her. Thranduil was no fool and knew exactly what was happening, clearly sensing her apprehension. Tears burnt his eyes as he just held her tightly. He had felt her emotions during their love-making and she had not tried to run then. While she had not spoken of how she felt, he had clearly felt it during their union. It was more than he could hope for.

*** 

News from the north made its way to Mirkwood. Orcs and other filth were readying to make their way to Erebor, where they had planned to end the cooperation that existed between men, dwarfs and elves and cause as much death and destruction on their path. 

Thranduil was informed by his son that a massive orc army was making their way to the edge of the forest, as they planned to overthrow Lake Town first, considering men to be the weakest of their enemies. The army would be upon them in half a day, which would barely be enough time to make their way to Lake Town and offer protection to its residents, let alone take on a full army to protect the area. Lord Dain it seemed, had prepared and was already marching from Erebor. The elves would not be far behind, moving from Mirkwood, also in the direction of the plains between Erebor and Lake Town.

Miya sat on one of Thranduil’s sofas in his ante-chamber in front of the fire, reading one of the Sindarin books. She was startled as suddenly he burst into the room, barking orders at his servants, who were preparing his armour and battle garments. 

As the servants were fussing over him, he briefly pushed them away, walking in the direction of Miya.

He lifted his hand to her cheek, as she had walked towards him, her eyes large and inquisitive, wondering what her role was in it all.

“Do not fret, _meleth nîn_. You will remain here, until we are certain you have no role to play in this. You will be safe within the palace walls.”

Miya shook her head.

“Will you not be needing me? Your prized weapon, the decider of the outcome of this battle?” she asked.

Thranduil sighed.

“Not until we understand how we can avoid it destroying you,” his voice earnest.

Miya frowned.

“You are willing to let thousands die, when you have a weapon in your possession that can end it all?” she genuinely wondered.

Thranduil nodded.

“You are too precious to us all… to _me!_ ”

Miya backed away.

“No… how can you expect me to let this happen. The prophecy was crystal clear on this, Thranduil. This is not right!” she exclaimed.

“I have to be a part of this. I _need_ to be a part of this. I can save thousands of lives. How can you expect me to sit back and do nothing?” she almost cried. 

Thranduil’s servants had in the meantime completed attaching his armour in all the right places. His royal cloak hanging from his broad shoulders.

He started to walk away from Miya.

“I have made up my mind. You will stay here. The guards will keep you safe and the servants will tend to your every need. You will want for nothing,” he concluded as he briskly walked in the direction of the doors of the ante-chamber. And with that, he was gone.

Miya collapsed to her knees, in tears. She was unable to determine whether it was for the thousands of people who could possibly die or the one person whom she was scared to lose forever. This had been exactly what she had been afraid of. It was the very reason she had been determined never to get attached to anyone ever again. She could not stay behind. She _would_ not stay behind. She had to get out. Her nightly visits wandering the palace before, finding the underground lake and all, had taught her the most secretive passage ways. She knew what to do and where to go.

*** 

As Miya’s horse swiftly galloped through the thick forest, many thoughts entered her mind. She was very much aware that however this turned out, it could mean the end of her relatively short elvish life. 

Because Thranduil had Miya more or less confined to his chambers, she had had no opportunity to go to her own chambers to collect any clothes. Instead she was now on horseback in her night gown, barefoot. One of Thranduil’s cloaks hung loosely around her shoulders, the fabric flapping around her, from the speed with which she made her way through the density of the forest’s undergrowth. She had managed to distract the guards earlier, allowing her to slip from Thranduil’s chambers, which was the easiest part. Trickier was obtaining a horse from the stables, but that too she managed without much trouble. She was determined. She would not let thousands lose their lives, when it could be avoided with the sacrifice of only one. Her own.

*** 

On the edge of the battle field, men, dwarfs and elves waited. The orc army was close.

Gandalf had been informed of the latest developments and he too had made his way to the region. If he knew Thranduil at all, he would have left Miya behind in Mirkwood in an attempt to protect her, but from what he had learned about Miya, she would be damned if she let anyone command her, be it her lover or anyone else. Gandalf was set on warning Thranduil, the elves, Lord Dain and his kin and the residents of Lake Town. The prophecy was upon them.

*** 

“Mithrandir!” Thranduil sighed as he embraced the wizard warmly.

“Thranduil, I’ve come to warn you,” the wizard claimed.

The elven king frowned.

“Warn me?” he wondered.

“Not just you, _all_ of you,” Gandalf continued.

“My dearest Thranduil, do you genuinely believe Miya will not make her way here, knowing of the evident outcome if she doesn’t?” the wizard asked.

Thranduil shook his head.

“She is secure at the palace, that is all that matters” he replied.

Gandalf sighed at the stubbornness of the king before him.

“Are you so sure of that?” the wizard proceeded.

Thranduil took a moment to consider the wizard’s question. He could in all honesty say that he wasn’t sure. He had witnessed Miya’s headstrong character on more than one occasion. His heart jumped with fear. The wizard’s words held truth in them and inside he broke with the thought of losing Miya forever. He was not convinced that she was strong enough, nor that she had learned how to wield herself as the weapon he had previously witnessed. He hoped, but feared she was not ready.

***


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Miya was closing in on the edge of Mirkwood, unsure of what she would bear witness to once she got to the inevitable battlefield. The ground shook, which indicated a vast numbers of people, as elves and dwarfs were marching to meet their enemy. 

All of a sudden, she heard a voice as clear as day.

“Do not fear me, young one,” a lovely female voice spoke.

“I am Galadriel, Lady of the Light.”

Miya remembered the time when Thranduil had told her the story of Lady Galadriel, who had lived for thousands of years and was able to converse with anyone in Middle-Earth from large distances. She was not afraid. Lady Galadriel’s voice gave her a sense of inner peace.

“Your fate lies ahead, Miya,” Galadriel spoke.

The words brought tears to Miya’s eyes and she breathed hard, trying to sniff her grief away.

“Do not cry, my dear, you know what needs to be done. You have known for a while. It is time you are honest with your own self.”

Miya’s eyes widened. What did Galadriel know that she didn’t. Or did she? How could she be honest with herself, knowing well that however the day’s events played out, disaster would be there to greet them.

“I sense your doubts, my young queen, but have faith in yourself. Let your heart speak and make peace with it,” Galadriel’s voice rang in her head.

Miya was confused. Did Galadriel’s words have truth in them?

“ _Young queen?_ ” Miya wondered, her mind speaking to the Lady of the Light.

“Your future is clear as day, my young queen,” she heard the smile in Galadriel’s voice.

Miya’s heart jumped. She had a future?

Galadriel laughed, reading her mind.

“You are surprised, young one. There is no need. Search deep down and you know the truth of which I speak. I have faith in you. Now go! Your place is on the battlefield.”

Miya spoke.

“But…”

Galadriel cut her off.

“I will warn the others to stand clear. Worry not, young one. No harm will come to _him_.”

Tears collected in Miya’s eyes. She knew what had to be done. It was time for the prophecy to fulfil itself.

*** 

Thranduil stood, in full body armour, waiting for the events to unfold themselves. The army of elves stood at the edge of Mirkwood, awaiting further orders.

“Hear me now, Bard of Lake Town, Lord Dain, King under the Mountain and King Thranduil of the Woodland Realm. Have faith when I tell you to not engage in what seems an imminent battle. Retreat to safety. People of Lake Town, retreat to Erebor with Lord Dain. King Thranduil, remain just within the borders of Mirkwood. When you do, you will be safe and no harm will come to you.”

Thranduil heard Galadriel’s words, until the Lady of the Light spoke to him and to him alone.

“My dearest Thranduil. Miya’s fate is upon us. She will arrive at the battlefield soon. You must let her go. Do not stop her. Let the prophecy unveil itself. Trust in her.”

Thranduil listened to the words that were presented to him. He swallowed hard. His heart jumped in fear.

“You have no reason for fear, my dearest King. Miya’s future is clear, as is yours. One will not play out without the other,” her voice spoke.

Thranduil closed his eyes and sighed. He knew what needed to be done.

*** 

As the orc army closed in on the lands around Lake Town, they found no one there awaiting them. The army halted and chatter could be heard among the vile creatures that were ready to overrun men, dwarfs and elves. Confusion spread among them, until moments later silence swept over the army of orcs and trolls.

In the far distance, a sole figure stepped onto the battlefield. The figure was dressed in in a night gown of such thin fabric, that the wind blew it against her slender body, emphasizing her breasts and hips. The velvet cloak she had been wearing moments before, she had shrugged from off of her shoulders, only to let it fall to the ground in a heap of messed fabric.

Miya continued to walk in the direction of the orc army, still barefoot. Her feet felt cold, yet she wasn’t bothered by it. Confidence swept over her.

Thranduil could see Miya walk away from him at a large distance. Concern grew in his eyes and mind. He knew better than to move towards her though. Galadriel’s words had been clear. He had no choice other than have faith.

The orc army grew impatient, as sounds of confusion turned to sounds of fury, sounds of a desire for destruction and death. Shouts and screams swept over the orc creatures as they adrenalised to engage into a battle they did not yet understand on how it would unfold. They were eager to storm towards the she-elf and slay her on the spot.

Miya had stopped walking and was now dead centre of a large area, which gave her a fine view of Erebor, the edge of Mirkwood and the oncoming orc army.

A battle horn could be heard. The orcs shouted and banged their swords against their shields. The next moment they started running towards her in attack formation.

Confidence was slipping away from Miya. She was scared.

Suddenly, without warning, quite involuntary, her eyes started to glow. The white strand of hair on her head joined the brightness in her eyes. She stretched her arms and raised her hands to the sides of her body, to be level with her shoulders. Her hands were now emitting a bright white light. The ground shook and the orcs stopped running, confused as to what was happening. 

Thranduil observed it all, in fear of losing the one he loved.

Before long, Miya’s entire being was swallowed up by a ball of thundering white light. The sphere of light swirled, hissed and thundered, as the orc army was still approaching, although somewhat hesitantly. The light grew brighter. Miya was no longer recognisable as elf or any other living being. The weapon had consumed Miya completely. A loud scream erupted from the light, effectively making the light swirl and hiss more violently. The orc army was almost upon her. A few more steps by those in front and they would slay her on the spot.

Without warning, a wave of power exploded from the sphere, sweeping over the grounds around her, in every direction, lighting up the surrounding area. The wave obliterated the orc army with such force that nothing of the foul creatures remained. The wave abruptly stopped at the edges of Erebor and the borders of Mirkwood as if it was meant to be so.

Within mere moments, the orc army was gone and gone forever. 

The skies had turned to grey, as the air had filled with ashes and dust, desperately trying to settle on the battlefield. The sphere of light had gone and the figure dressed in white remained, standing firmly on the ashy ground beneath her bare feet. Her legs gave way and with a thud she landed on the dust. Her eyes were open, as her awe washed over her. She was still alive. She sighed and closed her eyes.

Thranduil had carefully ventured onto the battlefield as the danger had come to pass. He had climbed on his horse and quickly made his way to Miya. Could it be?

As he approached, he could see her lying on the floor, unable to see her facial expression. Surely the weapon would have obliterated her in the same way as the orc army, had she not been ready. For the first time he dared to hope.

He climbed off of his horse and slowly moved in the direction of what seemed a lifeless body on the ashy ground.

He noticed her calm breathing and his head and heart screamed relief in both Sindarin as well as the common tongue of Middle-Earth. He kneeled beside her, lifting her up in his arms, resting her upper body comfortably between his open thighs, while his knees rested firmly on the dusty ground. He brushed her brown locks away from her face. The white strand of hair had disappeared.

Miya fluttered her eyes, and then opened them completely. She found Thranduil smiling down on her, holding her in a tender embrace.

Miya smiled back, tears gathered in her eyes. 

“I love you,” she whispered, almost in surprise of her own words and realisation. Her mind and heart had become one, professing her love for the elf holding her. It had been the one thing she had dreaded, yet it was the one thing that had helped her live.

Thranduil held her hand and kissed the palm of it, before looking into her eyes again, never parting with his smile for her.

“I know,” he whispered back, before crushing his mouth to hers that professed his love for her, love that would not necessarily be expressed by words only.

She responded in the only way she could. She opened her mouth to allow him entrance. To her mouth, to her heart and to her life.

Thranduil broke their connection, only to hold her in the tightest embrace possible and remained like that until others ventured onto the battlefield to assess what had just happened.

*** 

The procession back to the palace was a quiet one. Thranduil had insisted Miya ride with him, having settled her in front of him on his horse, his cloak wrapped around her. Recent events had drained her and the moment she had settled against his chest, she had almost instantly slipped into a deep slumber.

Evening had fallen by the time they reached the palace. Thranduil had seen to Miya’s care himself, carrying her to his chambers, while others fussed over the horses and bringing calm to the palace once more.

Thranduil gently settled Miya on the comfortable sofa. The fire was burning in the fireplace. He hoped it would help warm Miya’s slightly hypothermic state. Her feet were caked in dirt, her nightly tunic torn and soiled all over. 

Quickly Thranduil removed the fabric from Miya’s body, before wrapping warm furs around her to keep her warm. He discarded the torn tunic onto the floor, before briefly removing himself from her side in order to fetch a basin of warm water and a wash cloth. 

He settled in front of her, on his knees, carefully lifting her feet, placing them in the basin. With care and tenderness he took the wash cloth and slowly started to wash the dirt away. Miya sighed as she watched Thranduil’s long fingers caress her feet. Slowly she leaned back and closed her eyes. For the first time in a long while did she feel relaxed and content, safe and unconditionally loved by someone who was not family. And she loved him in return. A careful smile appeared on her lips, which did not go unnoticed by her lover, who just continued to wash and massage her feet as if to say that she no longer had a care in the world.

Miya wrapped the warm furs around her more tightly. Thranduil moved the basin to the side and with a towel dried the excess water from her extremities, before rubbing a fragrant oil on them. She felt she was losing the battle to her fatigue and only moments later, she was lifted into her lover’s arms to be carried to the bed, where she had spent many intimate moments with him on several occasions before. Thranduil quickly discarded the furs to the foot end of the bed, before engulfing her naked body in the covers that were already there.

She nestled her head on the pillow comfortably, while making eye contact with the tall elf before her. Neither of them spoke. Thranduil proceeded to remove his own clothes before settling behind her, pressing his naked body against hers, holding her in the warmest of embraces. Miya locked her fingers with his, while Thranduil rested his chin in the nook of her neck. Fatigue had finally caught up with her, as faint snores filled his hearing, which sounded like blissful music to his ears. He smiled and closed his eyes.

***


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter is here. Hope you will enjoy!

Chapter 8

Thranduil stirred, opening his eyes. Morning was not yet quite upon them, yet something woke him. As his eyes adjusted to the dark, he felt his bed too big for just himself. He was alone. For a moment he felt his heart break, yet recent events told him not to despair, nor jump to what seemed evident conclusions. 

He found the cloak he wore to the battlefield missing from where he discarded it the evening before. Quickly he swung his legs over the side of the bed, erecting himself before reaching for the robe that lay near. 

As he exited his chambers, a guard stood just outside, mindful of his surroundings. Thranduil made eye contact with the elf, as if to ask if he had in fact seen Miya and if so in which direction she had gone.

The elf knew immediately what his king wanted and needed to know.

“The underground lake,” he said, without hesitation.

Thranduil sighed. Of course. The next moment the king’s long legs took him to the one place he felt he needed to be. By his loved one’s side.

As he entered the cavern that housed the underground lake, he could hear the gentle splashes, knowing well that Miya was again in her element, finding water the best of remedies to all ailments. 

Thranduil just observed her. She was not wearing anything, and the fabric on the floor by the lake he recognised as his cloak, told him she had shrugged it off and cared not for being naked. 

Before long the king unfastened the sash of his own robe, stepping out of it and gently letting the fabric rest on one of the nearby rocks. He had not bothered with clothes when he had exited his chambers and so removing the robe, instantly revealed his body in the same state as it was on the day he was born.

Slowly he stepped into the water and eased towards his beautiful lover.

Miya had taken a moment to catch her breath. She was close enough to the edge of the lake that it allowed her feet to touch the surface below. Her shoulders protruded from the water, the water’s surface rippling just above the swell of her breasts. She jumped as she heard a deep velvet voice behind her.

“Good morning, _meleth nîn_.”

She smiled as her king snaked his arms around her waist, bringing his body close to hers as a result. He placed butterfly kisses on her shoulder, trailing a finger along the birth mark which until recently she carried as a sign of her fate.

Miya closed her eyes in bliss. It had been a long time since she had felt happy. And she was definitely happy. Thranduil sensed it and smiled as he nibbled his way down her neck, while his hands reached around her to cup her breasts, kneading them, sucking the skin on her neck simultaneously.

Miya pushed her head back as her lover’s hands wandered over her body. She could feel one hand trailing fingers along her abdomen, before landing between her thighs, circling her core. A moan escaped from her mouth, which told him to keep going.

After a while Miya turned in Thranduil’s arms, facing him, looking up into his piercing blue eyes, eager to let him know she needed more. He crushed his lips to her mouth, begging her to let him in. She let him, while wrapping her arms around his neck, lifting herself to circle her legs around his waist. Thranduil in turn, slowly moved to the more shallow end of the lake, never breaking contact with her lips, as his large hands cupped the cheeks of her backside. 

As he moved them both to the crudely carved steps at the edge of the lake, Miya felt the tip of his erection nudge her entrance. Thranduil turned, sitting down on the steps, the water reaching around his waist, while she straddled his hips. It was Thranduil’s turn to look up into her eyes, as she towered over him. It made him dizzy and the next moment he lifted his hands to hold her firm breasts once more, bringing his lips to one nipple and shortly after to the other. Miya closed her eyes and pushed her head backward, relishing the sensation her king was giving her. She couldn’t take it any longer.

“I need you… _now_ ,” she whispered, fire in her eyes.

Thranduil felt Miya lift her hips and in response he lowered his hands to grip the flesh on them, guiding her, before pushing her onto him, her warm folds clenching around his throbbing length. A guttural grunt escaped him, while she wrapped her arms around his shoulders to tighten the bond between them.

Before long, both moved in unison, one pleasuring the other and the other giving pleasure in return. The water rippled around them, making faint splashing noises, as Thranduil’s movements became more passionate, filled with fire and the need to reach impossible heights. While he kept grunting like an animal, Miya’s moans became louder, overpowering the sound of the splashing water that surrounded them. 

All of a sudden Thranduil lifted them both, and walked up the carved steps without ever breaking their connection. As he reached the cloak she had discarded to the floor earlier, he lowered himself, Miya still coiled around him, as he laid them both down onto the fabric. He stilled his movements for a brief moment, gazing into her eyes, which he found carried the same fire he felt inside. 

“You feel so good, _nar edhel nîn_ , this feels so good… so right,” he gently whispered.

Miya could do nothing more but nod.

They moved again.

Miya felt her lover fight the urge to climax, as he grimaced, while moving in her.

She lifted her hand against his cheek, where strands of his long hair were clinging to his face.

“Let it go, my love,” she said lovingly, her breath caught in her throat, well aware that her own high was upon her as well.

Tears appeared in Thranduil’s eyes.

“I don’t want… to…” he grunted as he exploded inside her folds.

At the same time Miya released herself and with a deafening scream of her lover’s name, she orgasmed for him.

Both trembled from the climax that washed over them, shudders of ecstasy ebbing away as they stilled their movements.

Thranduil removed himself from her core, shifting his body in order not to have his full weight on her. He rested himself on his side, his head propped up on his elbow, while his free hand doodled invisible shapes on her flat abdomen.

“I think the whole palace heard you,” he smiled.

Once more panic engulfed her, eyes widening at his words.

Thranduil laughed.

“Calm down, care not for what others think. Most already know that I have taken you as my lover,” he continued.

His face turned earnest.

“And perhaps in time you can be more than just my lover?” he asked.

Miya looked at him, full of questions.

Thranduil spoke again, though softly.

“It would be my honour if, in time, I could be your husband.”

Miya’s eyes widened in shock, unsure where to look and what to say.

A fleeting moment passed before she said anything at all.

“I’m not high-born. Surely this privilege is reserved for noble elves only. I am _nothing_ ,” she whispered.

Thranduil shook his head.

“Don’t even think it. You are _not_ nothing, you are _everything_ , _my_ everything and I would consider myself the happiest creature to roam Middle-Earth if you were to become my queen.”

Miya wanted to say something, but her king cut her off.

“I have loved you for so long, you cannot even begin to imagine. You have captured my heart, from the very moment I laid eyes on you, that evening in Lake Town. I did not know you were an elf then, but I didn’t care, I had to win you. When you saved my life, whatever I already felt for you, only grew and with each passing moment, my pull towards you became stronger. I did not have the strength to fight it, nor did I want to. Your healing powers tell me you have more nobility in you than you might think, but were you the poorest, the humblest, I would still have chosen you, my heart, my love, my queen.”

Miya took a moment to consider his words. No one had ever spoken to her in such a manner before. Her heart ached for him so much that she found it difficult to breathe, while fighting away the tears that collected in her eyes.

“Galadriel spoke to me,” she said all of a sudden.

Thranduil merely nodded.

“She called me _young queen_. I did not understand, but she said my future was clear. She knew of my feelings for you, even if I was too scared to admit to them,” she concluded.

Thranduil smiled at the beautiful elf by his side.

“She is very wise, the Lady of the Light. She spoke to me as well. She encouraged me to have faith… faith in you. She had seen the direction the prophecy was taking us and a clear future had already presented itself to her. She knew.”

He sighed with a heavy heart and for the first time Miya felt his emotion as clear as day. Her eyes widened again before she spoke.

“You are worried I will reject you?” she asked.

Thranduil lowered his head. 

Miya continued.

“I cannot… I _will_ not… reject you. I want you, I need you and I love you.”

Thranduil’s heart exploded and before Miya could speak again, his lips were on hers, tenderly, as the warmth connected with hers. His tenderness spoke more than a thousand words and it still would not have been enough for him to express how he felt. As he drew back, he looked into her grey eyes.

“My beautiful queen, my love, my life! I will make you the happiest elf in Middle-Earth,” he professed.

Miya’s head swam.

“You already have… _my king_ ,” she responded smiling.

*** 

“Mithrandir,” Thranduil exclaimed as he walked across his great hall in the direction of the wizard, obvious happiness on his face.

Gandalf just smiled in return.

“Happiness becomes you, my dearest king,” he piped having heard the news already.

From behind Thranduil, Miya stepped into the wizard’s sight, hesitant, yet glowing. Gandalf had never quite spoken to Miya directly. His conversations about the prophecy had always been with others.

The wizard walked in Miya’s direction, holding out his hands, kindness in his eyes.

“My dearest Miya,” he simple said, grabbing hold of both her hands, looking into her grey eyes.

“I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am you are still walking among us. You are strong, which is not entirely surprising considering your birth.”

Miya frowned at the wizard as she did not understand what he was talking about.

Thranduil turned his eyes in the wizard’s direction, equally puzzled to his words.

Silence fell among them, until Gandalf spoke once more.

“I have important information to share with you both, will you meet me in Lake Town tomorrow?” he asked.

“Bard will be there. As Miya’s closest living relative, it is only right that I include him.”

Gandalf’s words explained nothing, but rather raised more questions. Neither Thranduil nor Miya knew what meaning his words carried, but him being so secretive, meant he was to share something significant with them.

*** 

The only Inn at Lake Town was the place Gandalf had summoned them to. The wizard was gently sucking the end of his pipe and gazed out of the Inn’s lakeview window contently. Next to him was a dark haired figure, also gazing out the same window, deep in thought.

“It is good of you to be here,” Gandalf offered, never leaving his gaze on the lake that was outside the Inn’s view, as the Mirkwood party entered the room.

As Thranduil, Miya and Bard approached, Gandalf turned as did the figure sitting next to him.

Thranduil’s eyes widened in shock.

“Aglaron?” he whispered.

The dark-haired elf managed a faint mile, and his grey eyes spoke nothing but kindness.

Thranduil took a few steps and embraced the elf with such warmth, that Miya was in awe of what was happening before them.

“Aglaron, _mellon nîn_ , [my friend] I had long-believed you dead,” he finally said.

The dark-haired elf finally spoke.

“Thranduil, _glass nîn le!_ [it is my joy to see you] I may well have been dead had it not been for Mithrandir,” he explained however not explaining anything yet.

Thranduil just held Aglaron by the shoulders, observing him, not having seen him in years, yet he was the happiest person alive to lay his eyes on him once more.

“I have been a captive at _Dol Goldúr_ for many decades,” Aglaron said averting his eyes.

He took a deep breath and continued.

“The years have been unkind, Thranduil. Many years ago, Oreth and I were on the run, protecting our most precious possession. Our daughter. She was in danger, yet we did not know how to protect her.”

Thranduil interrupted him.

“You should have made your way to the palace.”

Aglaron spoke again.

“We wanted to, but danger was upon us so quickly and so we fled… away from Mirkwood, as far as our legs could carry us. We left our daughter, Aglareth, in the care of others, as we felt she stood a better chance of survival, laying low.”

Thranduil cut him off again.

“My dearest Aglaron, what on earth was this danger, you speak of?” he genuinely wondered.

Aglaron sighed.

“A prophecy full of death and destruction and Aglareth was to play the key role in it all,” he explained.

Gandalf eyes were twinkling. Thranduil looked at him, as the news coming from his long lost friend was starting to sink in.

Aglaron continued.

“Oreth was killed as we were fleeing, but orcs were on us constantly and in time they caught up. I have been imprisoned ever since, until only recently,” he concluded.

Miya was listening to the story being told as she too started to understand the revelation that reached her ears.

Thranduil’s expression was one of shock.

“And Aglareth?” he asked.

Aglaron shook his head. 

“Unknown… until now,” he spoke looking at Gandalf then at Miya.

Thranduil closed his eyes, then opened them again, he stared at Miya, who was nailed to her spot.

Gandalf spoke for the first time in a while.

“The girl was abducted from her caretakers, for what purpose, it was unknown,” he explained. 

Thranduil spoke.

“Mithrandir, you were aware of Aglareth’s role in this prophecy?” he asked, staring at the wizard in front of him.

Gandalf was still sucking his pipe.

“Indeed I was. Unfortunately, I lost track of Aglaron and Oreth and most importantly, I lost track of Aglareth after Oreth had come to pass and Aglaron disappeared… until your grandfather…” he said turning to Bard. 

All the puzzle pieces were falling into place.

Silence filled the room and it was deafening.

Gandalf held out his hand to Miya, which she took hesitantly.

“Come… meet your father, Miya, it has been too long since he has been parted from you,” he said softly, while watching Miya and Aglaron alternately.

Tears had collected in Aglaron’s eyes, as his gaze landed on his now adult daughter.

Miya let go of the wizard’s hand and instead backed away from the strange elf she had learned was her father.

She turned to Thranduil, who opened his arms instinctively, before she nestled herself against his chest, in his embrace, silently crying, not sure what to make of it all. 

Aglaron’s eyes grew wide, unsure what exactly he was witnessing. 

Gandalf decided to speak and further explain to the ones present in the room, but mostly to Miya and Bard.

“Thranduil and Aglaron were life-long friends, well before Aglaron fell in love and married Oreth. The friendship did not end there, but Aglaron chose a life of wandering with his beautiful wife. Within only several years, Aglareth was born and soon after her birth, it seemed many had taken a keen interest in the young girl, obviously aware of the prophecy, long before others did. Aglaron and Oreth were seeking for my council. They were not sure who to trust at the time and I was happy to be of assistance. I too recognised that Aglareth bore the signs of the prophecy.”

“Aglaron and Oreth’s nomadic lifestyle suited the situation, as they wandered from place to place, always staying one step ahead of danger, the kind of danger that could bring harm to their daughter. One day, threats were upon them, and they were closer than they deemed possible. They left Aglareth in the care of someone they knew could be trusted, however Oreth was killed by an orc attack soon after and Aglaron was taken captive. Aglareth was safe for a while, until she was not yet three years old. She was abducted from those who cared for her. It wasn’t until she was but twelve years of age, that I found her again. I can only guess what had happened to her in the years until then, but I suspect she was living out those years in servitude, of the slavery kind. Yet there she was, she had managed to survive, being as strong as she was. When Girion saved her from the slave trader that day at the Lake Town market, eager to get rid of an obstinate teenaged elf, I was again at ease and allowed her to age and learn… to live as her years played out.”

“When I learned the prophecy was upon us many years later, I started to understand that the Woodland Realm would have to play a part in it all.”

“What better way for the daughter of the prophecy to handle it all but by being with her own kind.”

Thranduil lifted Miya’s gaze up to face him.

“I always knew you were not nothing. Aglaron is as much Sindar as I am. It explains the strength of your healing powers. His mother was the greatest healer Mirkwood has ever known,” he smiled.

Miya stepped away from his embrace and turned to look at Aglaron. Tears were now streaming down her face. She did the only thing she could do. She walked towards him and embraced him as if to make up for all the years they had lost together.

Aglaron had started crying like his daughter.

“My sweet Aglareth,” he sniffed through his tears.

As she broke the embrace. 

“It’s _Miya now_ ,” she whispered.

“It’s all I’ve ever known to be.”

Aglaron merely nodded.

“I have no say in your life. I understand that. That time has come to pass long ago,” he sighed, lowering his head in sadness.

Thranduil and Aglaron exchanged looks, nodding to each other.

Miya let go of her father.

Thranduil turned to put the hand on his long lost friend’s shoulder and eyed him in earnest.

“Do I have your blessing, _mellon nîn?_ ” [my friend] he asked.

Aglaron closed his eyes for a brief moment.

“You do not need my blessing, Thranduil, I could never deny you anything as my friend, and I certainly will not deny you as my king, but you have it all the same,” he said.

Thranduil took a deep breath.

“Aglaron… I love her… _so much_ … “

Aglaron fully smiled for the first time and it all of a sudden made him look much younger.

“Then I have no regret in giving you my blessing…” he smiled as he turned to Miya.

“…to the both of you.”

Thranduil’s content was evident in his expression and Miya again turned to him for the warmest of embraces.

All was well.

Miya’s life was about to begin anew.

***


End file.
